#as interchangeable with them too apparently

[tiger-moran]

You know something I've never got is why there are people who seem to think I should consider BBC Sherlock 'mormor' the same pairing as Moriarty/Moran when it's been very obvious to me for many years that most of the people who read and like the BBC Sherlock stuff do not consider my or any other Moriarty/Moran content to be the same pairing as the one they like.

[britneyshakespeare]

Yesterday at the high school I was in for this art teacher and they all had like projects they were gonna present to work on in Google classroom, so like many days as a substitute teacher it was quiet and I mostly just sat at the desk and read. But then this one kid in my peripheral vision was looking at me and when I glanced over her laughed a little. And I looked away cuz I was like whatever maybe he was whispering smth w his friends.

But then he says "I have a question"

"Yeah?"

"What two colors make purple?"

"Oh. Red and blue"

"Thank you... I appreciate the no judgment answer"

I didn't even think about it lol

[timeisacephalopod]

Part of being Canadian is how similar we are to the US, and honestly not a single person on earth I think could genuinely pin point the difference between Canadian and American culture but the average Canadian. Americans assume we're the same as them (we aren't), even a bunch of Canadians think we're Americans, especially around voting seasons, and about half our cultural identity is "we're Not American!" but there are some cultural differences and if we all spoke French equally we could have had a language distinction but nooooo. Despite not being America unfortunately such a fuck off massive country right below your teeny tiny ass country (population wise) does result in a cultural avalanche from said fuck off massive country. Especially when you share a language.

The war of 1812 will forever be funny to me though because Americans were like "hmm maybe Canadians would also like to tell the British to fuck off, we will invade to show them!" And Canada was like *burns down the white house* and we've been tentatively chill with each other ever since lmao (even when we probably like. Shouldn't be cool with America but like. We could not risk that implosion politically or otherwise it'd be suicide).

[c0rpseductor]

you know i feel kind of lucky that this stye is so minor. like its big by MY standards but its just a tiny bit of swelling on my top eyelid that is only really noticeable up way close. i looked at google's images and apparently they can get ENORMOUS and full of pus like a zit. i had no idea they could get so bad lol

[satanghulu]

THIS IS A GUIDE ON HOW TO FALL IN LOVE WITH A DEMON THAT YOU SUMMONED THROUGH YOUR ECONOMIC TEXTBOOK (NO CLICKBAIT AND 100% REAL!!)

✦ PAIRING: satan x g!n reader ✦ SUMMARY: Okay, you didn’t mean to summon a demon nor did you mean to throw a book at him but hey, it’s not like you expected the literal embodiment of Wrath to apparate in your apartment! Now, if only he could go back to where he came from… ✦ WARNING: sort of canon-compliant, Reader has a personality! college!au, mentions of violence, solomon calls you sunshine, made up my own magic system, reader is shorter than satan (mentioned in one scene), mention of alcohol, use of MC instead of Y/N, Hell and Devildom used interchangeably, suggestive at the end! ✦ WC: 14.8K

MAIN STORY | FIC MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

You were going to kill Solomon.

It’s a well-known fact that that guy was shady as hell, but seriously? Was he trying to give you an express pass straight to Death’s doorstep or something? Maybe he had always harboured a secret dislike for you because why on earth did the Economics textbook he lent you summon a--demon?!

“Human. Are you done staring at me?” The man--no, demon? brushes off the dust on the back of his pants. You mourn for the state of your flooring which now resembles the set of a Miley Cyrus hit song.

Wait, were those polka dots you see on his pants? What are those hideous things draped across his neck? And, what was with his disaster of a shirt? For a second, you thought you had teleported to an alternate Jojo Bizarre Adventure universe.

”Your outfit is ugly as hell.” You blurted out, hands delayed in flying up to cover your mouth when you realised the words had escaped you.

The man--no, the demon turns with flashing eyes, his tail swishing dangerously behind him. Oh my god, were those spikes embedded in them? Suddenly, you regret ever opening your mouth – this is why people always tell you to keep your mouth shut when you are in a sleep-deprived state. You could feel sweat beading at the side of your temple as you slowly backed away, edging to the bedroom door.

“Are you courting death, little lamb?” He hissed, taking a step closer. That tail of his had started going wild, destroying one of your night lamps in the process. You would hate to imagine the destruction it would cause to you.

You took furtive glances around the room, swallowing hard when you realised the only makeshift weapon you had was the Economics textbook that Solomon had lent you.

The demon’s eyes had narrowed into slits, breathing coming out hot and heavy as if he was poised to attack you at a moment’s notice. Your grip on the textbook tightened as he advanced nearer to you, now a couple of steps away.

“Answer me, human--” The demon mocked you again, arms stretching forward presumably to attack you as you--

You threw the textbook at him.

Thud!

The textbook bounced off his head with a loud thud as he just stared at you in disbelief. At least, you had managed to get a headshot – your only accomplishment in life alongside the stupidest thing you have ever done. And somehow, you had landed yourself in deeper trouble if the shaking with barely contained rage from the thing was any indication.

You silently sent a prayer to the deity above, hoping that whoever was watching you from above would grant you a peaceful death. Although you weren’t one to believe much in religion, this seemed like a good time to start. Maybe next, an angel would drop from the sky too.

“HAHAHAHA!”

The hands you had raised as a shield were being forcefully put down by the entity in front of you.

“HAHAHA, I didn’t know humans could be this interesting.” Oh. The shaking was from laughter, you noted dumbly. You stared blankly at him before taking another step back, trying to covertly loosen his grip around your wrist.

After struggling in his grip for a good minute, you gave up the fight and waited for his laughter to die down. “HAHAHAHA. I never thought the day would come when I would get bested by a human. HAHAHA.”

Great, it seemed like the “demon” was showing signs of being a maniac too.

The entity in front of you kept mumbling to himself with a crazed look in his eyes. Honestly, you were getting kind of worried for him too. There’s no way getting smacked by a book is as funny as he made it sound. 

After another minute, his laughter finally subsided and his hold on you had loosened enough for you to wiggle out tentatively. The thing stared at you before his mouth curled into an unsettling grin, giving you goosebumps all over your arm.

“So human, tell me why you summoned a demon.”

Well, at least you got your answer to the burning question plaguing you. However, it was not a confirmation you wanted to hear at the moment. It wasn’t reassuring, one bit at all.

“You have piqued my interest, little lamb. Tell me why a measly human like you summoned one of the seven Denizens of Hell. What could possibly be your deepest desires?” said demon asked, voice growly in a way that gave you butterflies in the stomach; but the butterflies were trying to tear its way out to escape.

It took you a few moments to register his sentence. The seven Denizens of Hell? You weren’t familiar with the concept but it seems to indicate that the demon standing before you holds a high rank which means you must be in deeper trouble than you had initially thought.

“Uh.” You started. “I didn’t summon you, I think?” You dragged out your words hesitantly, holding out both hands in front of you defensively. Immediately, his face pinched into a frown as he studied your expression.

“You’re not lying.” He concluded after a second. You wonder how he came to that answer. Are demons equipped with the ability to tell lies? It seemed like an overkill.

“Though, something must have happened for me to be summoned.” He sighed, finally moving out of your personal space to scan around your room – which had been trashed from the black void that had opened up in the middle of your room to teleport the demon.

As you quietly bemoaned the state of your living quarters, the demon strides towards the textbook lying innocently on the ground. “This is it.” He bent at the waist to lean down and studied the title of the cover. “An Introduction to Economics: 1st Edition.” He said stonily, fingers curled around the spine of the textbook.

“How did you know?” It was a curious sight to witness, a demon with actual horns completed with a barbed tail standing in the middle of the wreckage of your room as if he belonged there. You could hardly believe it but sadly, no matter how many times you rubbed your eyes, the scene remained the same.

“I felt the magic radiating off it.” He answered simply as if it was something you should have known too.

“Where did you get the book from?”

“My friend lent it to me because-- Oh fuck.” You suddenly froze, feeling the blood drain from your face. The demon stared at you inquisitively, prompting you to finish your sentence.

“I have an exam tomorrow.”

.

Despite your reluctance to let the demon stay, he had unfortunately made himself comfortable on the singular standing chair in the bedroom as you pore over the book that Solomon had lent you. He had insisted on staying with you, even going as far as to force you to take responsibility for summoning him.

Seeing as there were no alternatives for now, you decided to deal with him after your current pressing issue – The Econs Midterm.

“What are you doing?” The demon asked you curiously. He had somehow donned a human appearance and out of the goodness of your heart, you had lent him some clothes that thankfully fit him. If you didn’t know better, he could even come off as harmless.

In fact, without the scary appendages on him, and if you look at him from the right angle, he was honestly kind of cute.

His voice had also turned less menacing which soothened your heart. You pointed to the textbook in response, squirming in your seat as he leaned close to your face. Do demons not have any concept of personal space?

“Your answer for part (b) is wrong.”

With an intent look, he pulls back after examining your scribbles on the mock exam beside the book. “You should use a contractionary fiscal policy to combat inflation instead.”

Instead of spewing out the first thought in your head, you decided to carefully choose your words this time. “...You study?” 

Maybe, you should have thought through your words more.

Thankfully, the demon didn’t take any offense to it. “Yes. Why? Is it so surprising that a demon had gone through formal education?”

Huh. You didn’t know that demons studied human-world subjects, much less went through a similar educational system to the human world. It was a pretty pleasant surprise, though you would have thought their curriculum would consist of ways to manipulate, slaughter, or seduce humans.

“Kinda.” You muttered, turning back to your notes. You itched to continue the conversation, the urge to know more about the differences between both of your worlds weighing heavily on you, alas the evergrowing pressure from your textbook was calling your name.

Yet, the demon continued to stare at the back of your head from the corner of your eye. You don’t believe that a human head is much different from a demon but you kept your complaints down. For now.

 .

Your pen drummed impatiently on the table as you tried your best to focus on the words in front of you but the insistent staring was getting to your head.

“Is the back of my head so interesting to look at?”

Oh. The words escaped again. Instinctively, your hands flew up again blocking the sight of the demon beside you. You started your farewells to your family, your friends, the neighbourhood cats, wait, who’s going to feed them if you die--

“I’m going to tutor you.”

Maybe you heard him wrongly. Gingerly, you set your hands down demurely on your lap and nodded to yourself. It must have been your hearing that was at fault. There is no way that the demon you summoned just offered to tutor you in a human-world subject. Does he even know what Economics in the human world is?

“I’ve never seen anyone so horrendous in Economics before. I’m tutoring you.” The demon dragged the chair over, situating himself right beside you. This was when you realised this was not a dream or hallucination you had conjured up.

“It’s a disgrace to the subject that someone could be this awful at it.” With every syllabus, it felt like a stab to your heart. Hey, it wasn’t your fault that you were bad at this. You were practically forced to take the subject as one of your modules because you had lost in the bidding stage. And, it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t turn up for the majority of the lectures – You had your coursework to do and there was no mandatory attendance for this.

Okay, maybe it was your fault.

The demon didn’t wait for your answer as he bullied the textbook from your hands amidst your protests. “Do you at least know the basic concepts?”

He must have really thought you were an idiot to ask this. The demon squinted at your mock exam on the table, picking it up to observe it closer. “Is it tested up till Chapter 10?”

You nod.

“Okay, we will skip the basics. Let’s go straight into Chapter 5, Fiscal Policy. Tell me what you know about this.”

Although you were flabbergasted, you still went along with his instructions. And that was how you somehow ended up studying the night away with your new “roommate”.

.

For the first time since taking this module, you were positive you were going to pass. You can’t believe that Pretty Boy a.k.a the scary demon was actually terrific at tutoring. He should consider a career switch – though maybe the demon part might scare people off.

Speaking of which, this entire time you had been referring to the demon as… Demon. It could be your scatterbrainedness, but it was only polite to ask for his name after he did you such a huge favour — he had tutored you into the wee hours of the night, and you barely got three hours of sleep before heading into the examination hall.

“What was your answer for question 2, part (b)?” A familiar grating voice echoed behind you. You immediately spun to see Solomon, the bane of your current evil. His lips stretched into a grin as he opened his arms wide, clearly expecting a hug from you.

With measured steps, you walked over and landed a punch on his shoulder hard. 

“Ow--! What the hell, sunshine?”

Sadly, your punch did not land as hard of a hit as you would have liked but seeing the reaction elicited from Solomon granted you some satisfaction at least. You clicked your tongue loudly and grabbed him by the arm, determined to find a quiet place so that you could talk about your new ‘roommate’.

Yet, despite your resolve, Solomon still had not budged a step. He was pinning you with a stare that practically screamed is-there-a-screw-loose-in-your-head? and his free hand was now planted on his waist, reminiscent of your mother’s posture when she reprimands you.

“Sunshine, I can’t stay to chat with you today.” He started, face creasing into a pained grimace as your nails dug into the skin of his arm.

“Ow--ow! Why are you so violent!” He finally smacked your hands off, bringing his hands up to inspect the crescent-shaped wounds. “I really can’t stay today. I have an important meeting in the Devil-- Uh. Somewhere.” He sends you another wounded expression while backing away, as you brought your balled fists up threateningly again.

“Just shoot me a text. I’ll reply to you as soon as I can.” He made a quick escape, turning around with a flourish as his cape billowed behind him. You could only watch as Solomon made his grand getaway with his long legs. Well, it seemed like fate had made its choice in screwing you up for a little longer.

Begrudgingly, you trudged home.

.

“Human, you’re back.”

You stopped in the doorway while taking off your shoes. The demon was lounging on your sofa, feet kicked up as he flipped through the channels on your television. 

“Oh.” That was all you could muster out from your shock at seeing him in the living room. Well, you hadn’t laid down any ground rules nor forbade him from exploring the apartment but it was still an unusual sight to see when coming home.

On second thought, you would rather him stay in the living room than your bedroom. He didn’t seem like the kind to rummage through your belongings but it was better to be safe than sorry.

After kicking off your shoes, you set your backpack and laptop on the kitchen island before making your way over to him. The demon flashes you a quick once-over before returning to the object of interest – the Television.

For some reason, you felt like you were intruding on his space. Although, it was rightfully your apartment. (Your bedroom was still wrecked to hell and you couldn’t bear to think about the cost of repairing it.)

“How was it?”

Amidst the indistinct pleasant buzz from the television, the demon placed the remote down to face you. You blinked in mild amusement. Was learning how to navigate human world appliances a part of the curriculum too? Even you had difficulty figuring out the controls for this.

“Ah. I think I passed.” You replied, distracted by the film playing on the television. The demon had good taste in films, playing one of your favourites on the screen.

He reached forward, snapping his fingers in front of you. You instantly took notice of the nauseating shade of neon green painted on his nails. For his sake, you hope that the fashion in Hell was vastly different because this shade was assaulting your eyes. But for all you know, he could be one of the pioneers of fashion in his realm.

 “Now, let’s talk about your repayment.”

“Repayment?” You echoed, staring at him as if he had grown a third head. Since when had you owed a debt to him? All you remembered was him helping you with your exam; he couldn’t possibly be trying to claim interest from that.

He nodded.

“You summoned me, didn’t you?” He said calmly, folding his legs up to give you more space on your couch.

“I told you! I didn’t--“

“--But you did.” With his cutting remark, you curled in on yourself and pouted. You couldn’t refute him. You did summon him. Though, wholly by accident.

“Okay fine. I’ll hear you out.” With a flippant attitude, you gestured for him to go on. He raised an eyebrow before sighing.

“Usually, a sacrifice is needed for a summon.” He shot you a glare to keep you from jumping in before he was finished. “But somehow, you’ve managed to bypass that step. So all that’s left is to fulfill a transaction between you and me.”

Meekly, you raised your hand. “Uh. But I don’t need any favours from a demon.” 

“Wrong.” He breathed out another sigh, as though he was speaking to an insolent child. “I’ve already completed my part of the transaction. What’s left is for you to fulfill yours.”

It dawned on you.

“Oh. You smart little--“ His lips twisted downwards into a warning sneer.

“Demon. Haha. Oh, so that is why you helped me out with my exam.” You said with your voice sugary sweet. Internally, you were stabbing metaphorical forks at yourself for accepting help from a demon so easily. You knew you were gullible but you really should have known better.

“That’s right. I’m a demon.” He scoffed, shooting a look that was so smug that you wanted to smack him. You dropped your fake smile, bringing your hands up to faceplant your forehead.

“Urgh. What’s your name?”

“I’m Satan, the Avatar of Wrath.” He said, sitting tall on the couch. Was being a demon really something to be proud of?

“Okay, Satan, Avatar of Wrath.” You started, already feeling a headache thrum in the back of your head. “I swear I don’t have anything to my possessions that you would like. Could you pretty please forget this favour and go back to where you came from? I won’t tell anyone.”

“No, can do.” Satan mocked you, folding his arms across his chest with his head tilted down at you. It was a feat considering that both of you were at eye level.

“I just need to co-habitat with you for a while. Surely, that can’t be too difficult?” You could see the demon staring at you condescendingly from the opposite side of the sofa. 

Many questions ran through your head but you were too overwhelmed to even try and grapple one out.

A pause rang out. Satan for once, kept quiet even as his lips thinned out into a snarl. He looked ready to argue with you at the drop of a hat.

With the extended time given, you decided to weigh your choices in front of you.

Pro(s):

Satan had proven himself to be quite academic, if you could utilise your cards properly, you could probably rope him into being your full-time tutor while he was here.

Although it had only been one night, he wasn’t as fussy as the past roommates you had (which was already a huge plus to you.) and he seemed to keep to himself.

He was pretty nice to look at.

Con(s):

He’s a demon.

Without the fact of his heritage, you would be almost inclined to reward him with the title of the Best Roommate you ever had. (It wasn’t like there was much competition there to begin with, the people you had roomed with were demons in human bodies.)

The demon was also pretty snarky but you had met worse people in college. This was nothing you couldn’t take.

With a deep breath, you made up your mind. It wasn’t like you had much choice in this matter either way. The demon asking was just for formality’s sake — this gives you a little more confidence at least, it proves that Satan cared about politeness and most likely wouldn't murder you in your sleep.

 With a nod, you extended your hand clearly meant for him to shake. 

“What do you want, human?” He stares at your outreached hand, confused. You scooted over to him and grabbed his crossed arm to free one hand to link with yours. “This is a handshake. We shake hands to seal the deal.”

He dropped his gaze to the interlocked hands with a hum. After a few seconds, he pulled away and shook his hand as if getting rid of dirt.

“Great.”

As you pulled your hands away, a vague sense of unease settled within your heart. (It somehow also reminded you of the time you had been coerced to join an MLM by an old acquaintance.)

.

In hindsight, you probably should have asked more about the situation.

After your conversation with Satan, you had assigned him the couch in the living room as his sleeping place. Surprisingly, he was pretty happy with the arrangement, stating that at least his sleep wouldn’t be disturbed here leading you to wonder more about his bedroom in Hell.

You had then turned in for sleep.

Or well, you had tried to go into your room to sleep but there was a suspiciously familiar crevice opening up in the middle again alongside the temperature dropping to the sub-zeros.

“What the hell?” You shrieked, watching as a wisp of smoke danced around a shadowy figure – the silhouette only vaguely human. You somehow had an inkling that this matter involved the person who was currently scouring your bookshelf in the living room.

“Satan! Get your ass here!” 

You hear a groan from the direction of where you had come from before hearing footsteps approach from both ends. Warily, your head turned slowly to where the gap was – it was the same as the one Satan had emerged from.

“Yo.”

Suddenly shy, your gaze flicked away from the demon before you. You certainly weren’t expecting this much-exposed skin this late in the evening.

“You sure took your time getting here.” You muttered crossly under your breath when the other demon appeared in your line of sight. Satan still looked relaxed, hands tucked into his pockets. The only show of acknowledgment was his eyebrows knitted in a frown.

“Mammon? How did you find me?” The Avatar of Wrath questioned, standing in front of you. Your vision was blocked by the sight of Satan’s shoulders as he motioned you to move back. Quietly, you slid away, not wanting to get caught up in the demons’ conversation.

“Ey. Where do you think yer’ going?” The demon, which you had now identified as Mammon, called out. With a blush still high on your cheeks, you took a quick rake at him. The small black horns that protruded at the top of his head were the least eye-catching part of him – your eyes ran over the thin white stripes over his chest and back and with the black straps around his body, you almost want to question if he came knocking at the wrong house. He looked like he belonged in the middle of a BDSM exhibition.

 “Y-yes!” You squeaked, hiding behind Satan’s back which appeared to be more sturdy suddenly. Mammon had a scowl on, as he pointed accusingly at you. You were thankful that he at least had on a bolero even if it was much too extravagant for your taste. The bat-like wings behind him fluttered a little as he moved towards Satan and you.

“Satan, you bastard.” The white-haired demon hissed, as he took quick steps to end up in front of both of you. You clutched onto Satan’s arm like a lifeline, fully hiding yourself behind him. Satan sends you a glare, trying to pry your hands off but failing to do so. “Why do Lucifer gotta send me here for this, huh?”

“To bring me back?”

Mammon sneers at his remark. “What do you think, younger bro?” The blue in his eyes seemed more piercing under the light of your bedroom. You were starting to think if you should be concerned a fight was going to break out.

He let out a huff.

“Who’s that?” The demon leaned forward to peer at you, eyes rounded in morbid curiosity. Satan stretched out an arm to block him from coming too close to you. Your palms were starting to get sweaty, but you persisted in sticking to Satan’s side like a thorn.

“A human,” Satan says matter-of-factly. You almost want to punch him in the face. Even now, he’s still refusing to call you by your name. Though, you vastly prefer him calling you human rather than a lamb.

“We made a contract vow.”

When the other demon looked at you for confirmation, you nodded timidly. The white-haired demon blinked rapidly, whipping his head to look at the Avatar of Wrath in disbelief. Dimly, you noted that he also had manicured nails, white and short – was this part of the job scope to be a demon?

“Ya’ made a pact?!” He gripped Satan by the shoulder, nails digging into the meat of his shoulder. “With a human?” Somehow, you couldn’t help but feel offended by that statement. It wasn’t like you were a willing participant in this. In fact, you were pretty sure you had gotten scammed into this.

 “No, a vow.” Satan corrected him, frowning. “It's like a contract. We learned that in school last semester, Mammon.” The demon sheepishly scratched the back of his head, clearly having no idea of what Satan was talking about.

It seemed like you weren't the only one who didn't listen in class.

“Grr…” The demon in front of you scrunches his face, a pained expression on his face. “Lucifer would kill me if I don’t bring ya’ back.” A thoughtful expression crossed his face as he tapped his feet impatiently.

The next line that came out of his mouth made you shudder.

“How about I eat the human?” You straightened up with a yelp. “Then there will be no vow right?” 

“Don’t touch the human.” Satan’s voice has dropped an octave, and you can see the flicker of his demon form appearing. Obediently, you let go of his arm and stepped aside – in a fight between whales, the shrimp's back gets broken. You would hate to get caught up in their battle.

“Yo, relax.” Mammon scowled, flicking his hand once. He lowered his head to briefly examine your face and immediately started snickering loudly. “It was a joke, chill.”

Was he joking about your life right now? You were pissed but in the presence of two otherworldly entities, you kept your anger in check.

“I can’t go back now,” Satan says again, demon form nowhere to be found after confirming Mammon’s intentions. “It’s a binding contract.” He elaborated with a smug smile. “Lucifer can’t drag me back either unless he wants me to burn in the pits.”

What?

“Burn?” You spoke up loudly as both the demons turned to look at you with surprise as if forgetting you were there. “You didn’t tell me that before we made the vow.”

Satan just nodded in your direction.

Although you haven’t met him for long, it didn’t feel right if you got blood (ash?) on your hands for not upholding your side of the vow. Even if you had been conned into it.

“Ain’t there supposed to be a timeframe or something?” Mammon spoke, looking at you. You squirmed on the balls of your feet as you bravely held eye contact with him. You were pretty astonished that he suddenly seemed to know his stuff.

“Six months?” You offered hesitantly. Satan hadn’t specified anything earlier and you were much too tired to even think through the intricacies of the contract until now. From the corner of your eyes, you could see him give you a discontented look.

On the other hand, Mammon looked satisfied as he pulled back to wave at you.

“I’ll be back in six months then.”

Poof.

Another wisp of smoke materialised from the ground and sheathed the demon like a second skin. When you blinked again, the demon was no longer here.

.

The stupid bastard had stolen one of your jewellery.

After exchanging glances with Satan, you gestured for him to come into your bedroom so you could continue your talk. You had dragged the chair from your table over to your bed, only to realise that the brainless demon had swiped one of your necklaces from where it lay on the table.

“...”

You broke the silence after both of you had settled in your respective seats. “Okay, what’s the deal about burning in the pits of Hell?”

“It’s just a punishment for breaking the vow.”

“Isn’t that harsh?”

“Demons can’t die. We’ll just regenerate, though it may take me thousands of years if I sink to the bottom of the pit.”

You furrowed your eyebrow at his nonchalance. “Why did you make the vow with me?”

“I wanted to get away.” Satan paused. “I needed a fresh change of scenery.”

You still didn’t get it.

“But you didn’t have to enter into a vow, did you?”

“Drop it.” His tone had taken one that was more threatening and you could see him bristle. It seemed like it was a touchy subject.

You still weren’t satisfied with his answer but you decided to stop talking about it for today. You had gone through quite a fair bit of ordeal in the past few days and you could feel the onset of a headache.

“So… six months?” You offered.

The demon sighed, looking very much frustrated. “Since you have mentioned a time frame, the vow would have to abide by that.” 

There was no room for further conversation after that. Abruptly, Satan stood up to leave the room after wishing you a good night.

“Wait.”

He peers at you confusedly as you hover near the door hesitantly with a pinched expression.

“You need to pay me back for what Mammon stole.”

You closed the door in his face.

.

Living with Satan felt like living with a cat that has no regard for you.

He was almost entirely self-sufficient – you could always find him sprawling out on the couch in the living room with a book. (Satan has already gone through your entire collection and was demanding you to get more.) 

Living with another person took some adjustment but thankfully, Satan wasn’t as disgusting as your previous roommates. Though he had a habit of leaving his your books all over the living room. This wouldn’t be much of a bother if not for the fact that you now start your day by stubbing your toes on them.

With your new routine in place, you would like to say that you have been getting along well with Satan – although without your intervention, you were sure that the demon would be half close to death.

(“Do demons eat food?” You asked one day, curious. 

It’s been a couple of weeks since Satan had shown up in your flat and in that period, you hadn’t seen the blond-haired demon take a bite of food. Maybe demons had a different type of feed compared to humans.

You dearly hope it wasn’t human meat that he would need to feed on.

“Ah.” Satan looks up at you from the couch. “Right, I need to eat.” He said, ignoring your question as he slotted a bookmark into the page of the book he was reading.

“Do you have food?”

“Are there any preferences or allergies I would need to cater to?”

“Hell Black coffee.”

You waited for an elaboration that never came. Though, you can safely assume that it was a beverage exclusive to Hell.

“You can’t survive on just black coffee, Satan.”

“Add a Devil Zebra Bacon Sandwich then.”

“Satan, we don’t have that here.” You glance around your kitchen, before striding over to your refrigerator to check on the available ingredients.

“I’ll make a bacon sandwich and some coffee for you.”

The demon nodded at you before returning to his book.

“Do demons need to eat?” You reiterated your earlier question.

“Kind of.” Satan paused, looking as though he was thinking hard about your question. “We do have to eat to be at our peak condition but we won’t die if we don’t.”

You let out a low breath and stare at Satan who had the audacity to look confused.

Even if one doesn’t die by not eating, how could he still skip all of his meals?

“Okay.” You say, “I will be making food for us every day. I am not taking no for an answer.”

“I won’t die if I don’t eat.” The demon insisted, sitting up in confusion.

You shot him a glare and Satan’s response died down.

You then started looking for the ingredients for the sandwich before Satan decided to open his mouth and tell you more about his unhealthy habits.) 

.

You step into the living room, holding a box in your hands. You decided to be benevolent and finally gift Satan your old phone. You figured that it wouldn’t hurt for him to have a way to contact you.

“Is this a D.D.D?”

You've long gotten used to the random terminology that the demon would drop in the middle of your conversation.

“It’s a Samsung Galaxy A6.” With a deadpan voice, you dropped the box into Satan’s lap. The demon continued scrutinising the package, tilting it from side to side. “I’ve inputted my contact information inside. You can contact me if needed.”

“Thanks.” He uttered with absolutely no sense of thanks.

You were about to bicker back when a bzzt caught your attention. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you swiped on the notification as you sat on the couch beside Satan.

[03:15PM] Monnie: Just received ur text.

[03:15PM] Monnie: I’m outside right now. Please open the door.

Jumping up from your seat, you quickly opened the door not wanting to keep your classmate waiting.

“Where is he?”

For some reason, Solomon looked rigid as if he was brimming with barely contained anger. You had never seen him like this, face bland with no emotions and straightened to his full height. He looked different from your Solomon, who was always playful.

“W-who?” You stumbled over your words hurriedly, as he pushed past you and headed straight.

“Solomon?” The demon on the couch frowned, putting the secondhand phone down when he noticed the footsteps heading towards him. “What are you doing here?”

You noticed how Satan flinched at the sight of him. It seemed as if they had some sort of history together. Were they exes?

“You know him?”

“Yes, the Wise Sorcerer.”

 “The Avatar of Wrath, Satan.”

You exchanged brief glances with Satan before opening your mouth in exasperation. “Okay. What’s the deal with you too?”

 “I’m a sorcerer.”

You were starting to wonder if you had a penchant for attracting supernatural beings. Now everything made sense, the fact you had summoned Satan was no mere accident.

“Magic is real?”

“Very.” Solomon moved closer to stop right in front of the demon. “What did you do?” His voice was neutral, face painfully blank.

“We made a vow.” Satan scowls as he shifts in his seat awkwardly as he tilts his head in your direction. You could tell he didn’t like the accusing tone that Solomon was using. “I got summoned here by that human.”

“Summoned?” The sorcerer questioned, biting his inner cheek in thought. “Why did you respond to it?”

That was new information to you – Satan could have rejected your summon but he didn’t. For some reason, the possibility of not meeting him made you bitter. 

The demon lets out a measured breath as he shrugs, not sparing you a glance. “I was bored.” 

“The Devildom had called for an emergency meeting a while back.” Solomon continues, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling. “Mammon said that you were cozying up with a human. I didn’t think it was true.”

You observed the demon’s expression carefully, trying to read his thoughts – you want to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling right now.

“What about it?” Satan’s voice was far too even for your liking, face schooled into a placid smile.

“You made a vow, didn’t you?” Solomon’s lips were starting to curl up threateningly. Once again, it seemed like a fight was going to break out. You wonder if you should start leaving the room. 

“You do know that MC here doesn’t have any magic right?” 

Satan nods.

“What if MC gets injured? Will you take responsibility?”

“Hey--“ You tried to jump into the conversation, but none of them were paying you any attention, too focused on staring each other down.

“I will.”

“Hey-- Ay, what?”

“I’ll leave Sunshine in your hands then.” With widened eyes and raised eyebrows, Solomon takes a step back, patting you on the shoulder as he brushes past you to make a beeline to the kitchen.

“I haven’t eaten all day in a rush to get here, can I whip up something?” 

In a feat to not let the sorcerer destroy your kitchen, all thoughts about the earlier conversation flew out of your head as you ran ahead of him to block his entry.

.

Teaching a demon how to act human was no easy feat.

“I want a Shadow Hog Stir Fry in Demi-glace Sauce.”

The waitress stares at him, pen hovering above her notepad. You forced out a laugh, leaning over to hit Satan on the shoulder teasingly.

“He’s just joking.” You crinkle your eyes up, desperately wishing that the waitress didn’t think of you both as weirdos. At least, you hope that the waitress doesn’t group both of you together – this was one of your favourite dining places, and you would hate to get banned.

Satan narrowed his eyes into slits and was just about to open his mouth to argue. You quickly kicked him from where you were seated across the booth. Begrudgingly, he kept his mouth shut.

“Alright.” The waitress says, not entirely convinced. “What can I get started for both of you?”

“Can I get a Devil Coke?”

“You mean cola, sir?” The waitress's voice was perfectly courteous, even if you could see a glint of chagrin in her eyes.

“Yes, that and a cup of water.” With a loud voice, you cut in quickly. You could see the demon’s bottom lip jutting out in frustration as you tried to keep up the playful act. “You’re so funny today, Sa--“

“Sully.” You end awkwardly, voice strained.

“Right, okay.” The waitress thankfully just ignores your comment, as she flips the pages of the menu and points to the top of the page. “We would recommend the Classic Demi-glace Rice for your companion here. This dish over here is our best-seller too.”

You nodded in the direction of the waitress. “Great, we’ll get both.”

After scribbling down your orders on her notepad, she collected the menu and walked off. After making sure that no one else was in the vicinity, you leaned forward and hissed at him.

“You have to remember that we are in the human world.”

“They don’t have these here? Shadow Hog Stir Fry in Demi-glace Sauce and Devil Coke are everywhere in the Devildom.”

“Well, take a look at the menu. Is it written there?”

Satan rolled his eyes, pointing at the table.

“The waitress took it away. Anyways, why am I Sully?”

“It’s not like I can introduce you as Satan, can I?” You said sarcastically. “I’m not trying to get flagged as a cultist.”

“Why not? They’re a pretty fun bunch.”

“That’s beside the point!”

Satan’s gaze flew up to the ceiling as he ignored your statement. He muttered some insults under his breath, which you pointedly turned a deaf ear to.

Thankfully, you still had time to teach him about human customs –you were determined to drill him about human etiquette before he headed back to the underworld.

.

A week later, Satan somehow manages to coax you into bringing him onto campus. Actually, it wasn’t far-fetched to say that he guilt-tripped you into doing so.

(“I’m bored.” He says.

You raised an eyebrow at his figure by the doorway. You have finally fixed the crack in your bedroom and thankfully, it didn’t cost as much as you thought it would. Though, you hadn’t repurchased any of the furniture that was destroyed during the summoning.

“Hi bored, what do you want?” You snarked back, back still hurting from hunching over your coursework on the ground. The materials were spread all over – you had shifted to the floor when you realised that there wasn’t enough space on your table.

“Stop talking nonsense.” He walked over, leaning over by the waist to squint at your work. “Do you need to head back to school tomorrow to submit these?”

“Yeah.” 

“Why?” You paused your actions and looked at him suspiciously.

“You said that you were going to teach me how to be more human, right?” He started, squatting down to shift your papers aside to make a space for him to sit.

You nodded slowly, unable to see where he was going with this.

“Bring me on a tour of your campus.”

“What?”

“It’s been hard on me,” He says, suddenly slumping his shoulders. “I haven’t been cooped up in the same place for so long since the time Lucifer kept me in the cupboard.”

You couldn’t refute his logic. Satan had indeed been confined in your quarters, not because you didn’t trust him-- Actually yeah, it was because you didn’t trust him.

You hadn’t explicitly forbade him not to go out but the demon seemed to know that you hadn’t felt comfortable enough to let him roam free. The weather had turned chilly lately which further lowered your ambitions to head out – though Satan had seemed pretty immune to the temperature.

Are demons more resistant to the cold?

Satan waits for a bit, before reaching for your sleeve to tug on it. If you stared at him long enough, you could almost swear that you could see tears brimming in the corner of his eyes.

“Please?”

Pretty green eyes stare up at you, wide and pleading. You felt your resolve weaken.)

.

Which was exactly how you ended up in this situation.

The towering shelves seem to extend far beyond your vision, and the grand expanse of the library is filled with countless volumes, making it a scholar’s paradise. The demon stands in front of you, gaping at the sight.

With his love for knowledge, you had purposefully kept the library as your last destination on the tour.

“Please keep the books to a maximum of five.” You told Satan, urging him to go forth and explore the space. “My student ID only allows five to be checked out at a time.”

His eyes had widened into big shiny orbs, alight with curiosity. For once, he didn’t argue back and gently walked ahead to the ornate wooden shelves to start scanning through the books. For you though, you headed over to the table heaving your bag up on the surface.

You decide to get some work done while Satan explores the winding mess of bookshelves.

.

Deep in your work, you barely noticed the tap on your shoulder. Only the call of your name broke the haze of concentration you were in.

“Yuki?” Your eyes widened as you tried to keep your voice down, glancing around nervously at the other library-goers.

“Oh my god, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around!” Yuki beams at you, arms spaced out to hug you.

“Yeah, we haven’t seen each other since last semester.”

“How have you been doing?” 

Both of you continued to exchange polite pleasantries for a bit, as you pulled out the chair beside you for her to sit down.

“Oh right,” Yuki began, pulling out her phone from her purse. “There’s a party I’m organising coming up soon. Do you wanna come? I invited people from our class last semester.”

You hummed for a second.

It’s been a long while since you went to a party, and even longer since you entertained the thought of drinking. It hadn’t even occurred to you, especially after housing Satan who had occupied all of your time and thoughts.

“Sure, just text me the date when it’s confirmed.” You responded, typing in your contact information when she handed her phone over. It should be fine to leave the demon alone for one night – it wasn’t like he had much of a penchant for mischief.

A voice from behind called, “Which five should I check out?”

Both Yuki and you turn to look at the demon, carrying a stack of books so high that you were worried he was going to topple them on you. Your eyes widened as you quickly stood up to grab a couple of books from him, clearing up his vision.

“Uh.” You had almost forgotten about the third presence with you, too busy trying to direct Satan in the right direction of the table. “Is this, uh, your boyfriend?”

Awkwardly, your hands hover in the air as you reach for another book from the Avatar of Wrath’s arm. “No, uh, we’re roommates.”

Satan nods behind you. “Pleased to meet you. My name is Sa--“

You elbowed him in the stomach, plastering a smile on your face.

“Sully.”

Yuki laughs somewhat stiltedly, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. “I’m Yuki, It is a pleasure to meet you as well.”

Her eyes darted between the demon and you, before widening into a grin again. “Sully, do you want to come along to the party as well?”

You jerked your head to look at her with blown-out pupils. Well, this wasn’t the direction that you had expected the conversation to take. Curiously, you turn to look at Satan. You wonder what would be his response.

“Party?” Satan sounded out the syllabus in his mouth, arching an eyebrow. “Probably not, I have to get through these books as soon as possible.”

He points at the intimidating stack piled up on the table.

“However, thank you for the invite.” He tilts his head down slightly, thanking her.

Now, you were the one who raised an eyebrow. Since when had he learned how to be so polite? He always acted like a minx with you.

“Well, alright then. If you change your mind, you could always just tag along.” Yuki glances at her wrist for the time, letting out a small gasp. “Oh, I’ll have to get going first. See you around.”

She stood up, tugging up her bag onto her shoulder as she waved you goodbye with a smile. Satan and you watched as she walked off.

“Lovely seeing her.” You say.

“Help me choose now,” Satan demanded at the same time.

“Geez.” You muttered, “Where did that polite facade of yours disappear to?”

“Stop talking and start choosing.”

“Fine.”

.

A couple of days later, you decided to bring Satan on an outing around your neighbourhood. It was odd how the conversation from that day stayed in your head like a plague, and when you had seen him sprawling on the couch, you decided to put your plan into action.

“Get ready.”

“Can’t you see I’m reading?”

“I’m bringing you on a tour around the block.” You paused, shaking the bag you were holding in front of his face. “It’s also my turn to feed neighbourhood cats this week.”

You threw the scarf you had dug out from the back of your closet at him. Even if he was less affected by the cold, you still wanted him to be prepared against the weather. (You also wanted to see how he would look like all bundled up in winter wear.)

Suddenly, a hand clamped on your shoulder hard while you were lost in thoughts. 

“You should have started with that.”

Next, you know, Satan was ready by the door, impatiently pawing at your security system trying his best to unlock it. It’s been a couple of weeks since he had intruded into your house per se, but he still hadn’t gotten a hang of the electronic door system you had.

It was adorable watching him fumble around since he was always prim and proper. Well, it seemed like you still were learning new things about the demon every day.

.

“I didn’t know you liked cats this much.”

Amusedly, you handed the can of wet cat food to the blond – who was currently cooing at the tabby cat as it rubbed against his leg. It was admittedly, a cute sight to witness and an unexpected twist from what you would expect from a demon like him.

Would this be what they call gap moe?

“Of course I do.” Satan peers up at you confusedly, face practically screaming with incredulousness. “Cats are an integral part of life, one can never miss out on the joy of running their fingers through a cat’s fur.”

His eyes gleamed with a fiery passion as he continued ranting away. Sighing, you decided to also squat on the ground, grabbing the tabby’s attention as you dumped the wet cat food out on the plate while listening to the demon’s tirade.

“Do they have cats in the Devildom too?”

“Of course they do, human.” Fondly, you watched as his fingers found their place underneath the cat’s chin. His nose had also turned a bright shade of red, resembling Rudolph. “I’ll bring you to the Devildom on a trip to see them in the future.” 

Your heartbeat quickens and a warm feeling settles in the middle of your chest.

“O-oh?” You say.

“Yeah, you can consider this a repayment for letting me lay eyes on the most magnificent creatures in the three realms.”

There’s a moment of pause as you register his comment, somehow swallowing past the lump in the back of your throat. You lowered your gaze to the concrete ground, hands absentmindedly going through the motions through the cat’s fur.

So that’s what he meant.

Before you could get too over in your head, you decided to stand up, ready to move on to the next feeding location, missing the way Satan had looked at you.

“Sully?”

“Oh, I didn’t expect to meet you so soon again.”

You turned your head to the side, the bag of cat food left abandoned on the ground as you inspected the situation in front of you. Satan had also gotten up, giving the tabby one last pet, before he turned to the stranger.

“Ah, this is my roommate.”

Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed the demon nudging you to pay attention to the conversation. Bizarrely, he was still warm to the touch despite the red shade of his nose. You quickly put on a polite smile and introduced yourself.

“Ah, I’m Luna.” 

The girl in front of you was petite, with hair that was spun gold and the brightest smile you had ever seen in your life. You ended up speechless for a second, looking at the outreached hand.

Satan elbowed you again.

“Hi, yes.” You started after regaining your composure, reaching out to shake her hand. “Oh, I didn’t know Sully over here, had friends.”

It was a miracle that your voice came out all steady.

Luna raises a delicate hand to titter, eyes crinkled. You couldn’t help but find her adorable, even as something anxious sat in the pit of your stomach, the organ seemingly all twisted wrong.

“Oh, I met her at the library,” Satan says. For some reason, he paused to look at you before adding on. “She’s working at the library as a librarian. I enlisted her help to find some titles.”

The girl nods rapidly, somehow seeming to emit a brighter glow the longer you watch her.

“Are you guys feeding the cats?”

“Ah yes, my roommate is also bringing me on a tour around the neighbourhood since I’m new.”

You nod along, pressing the palms of your hand along your thigh to get rid of the sweat forming there. You couldn't understand why you were sweating despite the cold. “Do you want to come along?”

The demon turned his gaze to look at you, covering his mouth with a hand to mime coughing as he hiss a what-the-hell to you. Bewildered, you just tilted your head in response. 

Wouldn’t this be a good opportunity for Satan to make friends? You thought he would approve seeing as how he was complaining about being “cooped up” in his words.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to disturb you guys.”

“Ah yes, it’s fine!” You urged, grabbing onto her arm, and tugging her to walk ahead. Satan reluctantly picked up the bag of wet cat food and trailed after both of you.

.

“Why did you invite her?”

The door to your apartment hadn’t even been fully opened when the demon sprung the question on you. You continued walking in, taking off your shoes in the hallway as you stayed silent. Satan barged past you to stand in front of you, forcing you to look up at him.

It’s been a while since you had found the demon intimidating and the way he was looking at you now somehow reminded you of your first meeting with him, though it was now more of a fond memory.

“I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to make new friends.” You brushed past him, heading to put the empty bag and the takeaway containers on the kitchen island. “I didn’t know you would take offense to it.”

You could hear footsteps echoing behind you, following in your path.

“Take your shoes off. I just mopped it in the morning.”

“I didn’t want her to come along.”

The container of fried rice drops on the surface with a thud, thankfully not spilling open. You would hate to clean the mess up when you are covered in cat fur and tired from socialising.

Did you not like her? Is she not pretty enough? Why do you not like her? Why are you telling me this? 

Multiple questions swarmed in your head but none made it out of your mouth.

“I see.” You say, not knowing what else to reply.

Satan huffed a sigh out, taking out his shoes and placing them in the cabinet next to your door. The silence in the air felt long and stretched out. The only thing you could hear in the apartment was your own beating heart, which was pounding at a hundred miles per second. You had never felt uncomfortable in the presence of the demon before this. You hated it.

“Human, are you not going to ask me about it?” The demon demanded, wrestling the takeaway containers from you and grabbing the utensils from the drawers.

“Do you want me to?” You countered. You don't know why he was acting like this.

“Fine, so be it.” Satan runs a hand through his hair, slamming the container down on the table. You almost winced for the fate of your dinner.

"Continue to act like that.” He says, spinning around to leave the kitchen. Immediately, you regretted the words that came out of your mouth.

“Wait, no.” Your hands instinctively found their place around the edge of Satan's shirt. You twiddled your thumb around the fabric, blinking back your embarrassment. Your head hung low as you avoided his eyes, biting your lips nervously. “I’m sorry.”

You could feel the demon slowly turn around, but you stubbornly kept your gaze on the kitchen floor. You hadn’t fought with him before, the uneasiness of the situation making your insides squirm.

“I’m sorry for inviting her without asking you.”

“You-” Satan’s voice sounded pinched in discomfort. He lets out another deep exhale, hands gently placed on your shoulder.

“You don’t need to apologise. I should have been the one to say sorry.”

“No. I should have checked if you were okay with me inviting her.”

The demon just nods, placing a hand on the top of your head to mimic a pat. Somehow, you found the motion soothing and gained a deeper understanding of a cat's psyche.

Satan then turns back to the island to retrieve the containers again –you had gotten takeaway from a nearby Chinese restaurant because the demon had been craving for it.

“Okay, since both of us are certain that we are at fault. Let’s just forgive each other and move on?”

You head over to the living room first, settling down on the floor as Satan follows closely behind, holding the day’s dinner in his arms. Eating together had become an established norm in your apartment – you hadn’t noticed when both of you had become so close, so domestic, so soft. 

You made a conscious effort to not think about the earlier conversation but it still weighed heavily on your mind. 

What does it mean? Why does he want you to ask about it?

.

“Satan.” You set the bowl of cereal in front of him and then put yours beside his. “I’m heading out for the party later at night. I will be back late.”

He pours milk into your bowl and slides it across the table to you. “Don't you have class today?"

"Yeah until 6, but I'll be back for dinner before heading out for the party."

"Oh, is it the one your classmate invited you to?”

“Yes, wanna come along?”

“Not today. I’m aiming to finish this." He points to the book lying on the couch. "Also, I'm trying out this new recipe I read in this book for dinner.”

You squint at the book on top of the throw pillow, Satan’s favourite, with a picture of a kitten – it was worn out from use, an evident reminder of how the demon had integrated into your life so smoothly.

“Remind me to get a new pillow soon.”

“Sure. Be safe tonight.”

You were almost positive the cereal had gone down the wrong pipe. For a second, you wondered if you were starting to make things up. The demon pushes the cup of water to you, urging you to drink it. It was nearly comical how affected you were by a simple phrase.

“Thanks.”

Satan continues to nurse his cup of coffee. It was truly amazing how he could stand the taste of it. You had tried it once out of curiosity and almost spat it out due to how bitter it was.

(“Why would you do this to yourself?” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand after washing out your mouth with mouthwash.

Satan shrugged.

“It reminds me of Hell’s Coffee back in my realm,” He explains, taking a sip from the same coffee that you had tried. “The coffee would become bitter if the brewer has feelings for the one they are brewing for. It also changes depending on the magic content.”

“That’s interesting.” You say. “So is your coffee always bitter then?”

He smiles at you, swirling the liquid in the cup thoughtfully. “Sometimes. Though, I’ve never had anyone who tried my coffee say it’s bitter.”

That was… fascinating. You would have expected Satan to, maybe, have more experience.

“Oh.” You muster, still thinking about the implications of his statement.

“When you come to the Devildom, I’ll let you try my version of it.” The demon says before finishing the rest of his drink in one shot, face scrunching up at the acidity of it.

“Okay.” You say, nodding. “Okay, sure.”

Your face was heating up for some reason, and you felt like your brain had been dipped into a bathtub with the toaster plugged in.

You wonder if the coffee he makes for you would be bitter.)

.

You arrived at the party at midnight and amazingly, your host was already knocked out on the couch.

“Yuki.” You shook her once, only getting murmuring as a reply. It was obvious that she had ascended into the astral plane. You were planning to count on her to take care of you but that plan flew out of the window.

You straightened up, speaking to no one in particular. “What the hell? I’ve only just gotten here.”

“Unfortunate.” Someone says sympathetically beside you. You recognise her as one of your classmates from your previous semester, “Go and get yourself started with a drink from the kitchen.”

You winced.

“It’s still early.”

“It’s literally past midnight.” She says, staring at you with a deadpan expression. “That’s what you came here for right? To drink?”

You look in dismay as your classmate shoves you in the direction of the kitchen. Though, she was right. You had indeed come here intending to drink as much as you can.

The demon had been occupying your head as of late, and you were starting to get desperate for an excuse to get out of the house to clear your head.

She pushes a red solo cup into your hand, urging you to take it. “Here you go. Cheers.”

With your safety plan out of commission, you were determined to only drink enough to get tipsy. After all, you were at a college party. Though, you still needed to find a way to hitch a ride home after.

You would hate to worry Satan if you stayed at the house overnight, though you question if he would even expend the energy to be concerned for you. (You think he would, but you can't be sure.)

Your classmate hands another cup of jungle juice to you. You could already feel the buzz of the alcohol in your bloodstream. The concoction was stronger than expected.

“I can’t drink anymore.” You insist. “I don’t want to get too drunk.”

“Just get one of the sober monitors on duty to drive you back.” She pats you on the shoulder, pointing somewhere in the room. You barely register the touch, hanging onto her arm.

“Joshua!” She shouts, your ears ringing from the volume. The bass of the music was deep, drowning out her voice. Thankfully, the man in question turns to you. His facial features were oddly familiar but you couldn’t put a finger to it.

“Oh? It’s been a while.” Joshua smiles at you. You noted vaguely that he was holding a cup of water instead of the red solo cup filled with jungle juice. “We were in the same group last semester, weren’t we?”

Somehow, you were already on your third cup, and you could feel yourself swaying from the alcohol. You hadn’t even realise that your other classmate had already left to mingle around with the rest of the party-goers.

“Yes.” You weren’t sure about it, but it seemed plausible.

“Do you need me to drive you home?”

“Yes.” You said again, sounding very much like a broken record. “Please.”

“No worries.” He laughs again, ducking his head low to talk to you over the music. “Do you want to go now?”

You shake your head. You clearly weren’t drunk enough if thoughts about the blond-haired demon were still rattling around in your head. You hadn’t even noticed yourself metamorphosing his features into the guy before you.

 “You sure?”

You nod again, brushing off his concerns. The alcohol seemed to only amplify your emotions about the demon. You needed to get some fresh air to think. Vaguely, you remember seeing a backyard as you came in.

On your way out, you threw away the rest of your drink before toddling off into the direction of the backyard. You were surprised to find out that you were the only occupant so far – the trees were finally in bloom after the long cold days and you could feel a mild breeze on your skin.

The night air punctuates the day and you inhale, your lungs filling with fresh air as you take your phone out of your pocket, noticing a notification on the screen.

[02:42AM] You have one missed call from Satan

The steady thrum of the music couldn’t drown out the sound of your heartbeat suddenly quickening. The cool air was a god-given gift against your flushed skin as you hovered over the call button.

The phone rang once, twice and then a voice answered.

“Human?”

You kept silent. (You wonder after all these months, were you still just a human to him?)

“Hello? Are you okay?”

“Um yes.”

“Why did you call me? I thought you were at the party?”

You hesitated, looking at your phone again to check that you hadn’t seen it wrong. You have been standing out in the backyard for a while and have sobered up considerably.

“Weren’t you the one who called me?”

“Ah right, I forgot you were out tonight. I was worried that you were out so late.”

“Worried?” You breathed out, fingers suddenly trembling. The temperature outside wasn’t even cold enough to warrant an outerwear, but you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking.

“Yeah.”

All you could hear was his breathing on the other side of the call.

“Can you pick me up?” You blurted out suddenly. “No, I mean. Never min-” You cut yourself off in a panic, crouching to let your head hang between your knees.

This was out of character for you. He must think you were insane, suddenly putting in a request to pick him up. None of the buses or trains were running at this time. The only way possible was if he teleported. You don’t even know if he even had the ability to teleport, let alone even use it to come and find you.

“Just ignore what I sai–”

“I’m here, " the voice echoed in front of you. You refused to lift your head to check your surroundings, refusing to let yourself be disappointed. Your grip on your phone grew tighter, and you vaguely sensed that your stomach was churning.

The shadow cast in front of you suddenly shifts and you recognise the hands gently tugging your phone down.

“I’m here.” He repeats again, tapping on the screen to hang up the call from your phone. You still had your head hung low, staring at the haphazardly worn shoes. It was a mismatched pair of a matching set you had bought on sale – the cat pair had been given to the demon, while you had the matching duck set. You had never worn yours out, leaving it near your cabinet but Satan had utilised his well.

He had worn one side of the cat slipper, and the duck slipper, which were a size too small.

You let out a laugh, your chest heaving up and down. Once, twice, and then you broke out into a full fit of giggles. Your breath quickened, each inhale sharp and shallow. Clutching at your abdomen, you forced yourself to breathe.

“Human.”

“Y-you can teleport?” Your voice came out squeaky, high-pitched as if the air had been knocked out of your windpipes. “Why did you come?”

The demon tilts his head, leaning in close with squinted eyes. “Are you drunk?” He lifts a hand to touch your forehead, hand cool against yours.

“You’re red.” He remarked.

You stiffly nod. The cold wind had helped your heated skin to calm down but it was of no use against Satan. You could feel the full force of the blush burning high on your cheekbones.

“You’re a lightweight.”

“I drank,” Your mind was telling you to lean into the demon’s touch but you staunchly made yourself lean away instead. “I think four cups.”

“Only four?”

“You think you can do better?” You scoffed, inhibitions low enough for you to start running your mouth. “You have noodle arms, you’ll probably pass out after the first cup.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“I’m just saying.”

“You’re on.”

The demon stands up, dusting off his pants and grabbing your hand to drag you into the house. “This way?” You stumble along, your eyes locking on the way his hand fits in yours. He leads you to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of jungle juice – he didn’t let go of your hand, making what was originally a one-person job into two.

He hands you a cup, raising an eyebrow.

“Cheers.”

You muttered similarly, before throwing back the drink with a wince. You’ve never liked the taste of alcohol much, the liquid tasting like medicine and sliding down hot to your stomach. You hadn’t even realised you had squeezed your eyes shut.

“This is nothing,” Satan remarked, barking out a sharp laugh. “You get drunk off this? You’re so cute.” He laughs again, but you can see him sway, holding onto the edge of the counter to maintain his balance.

“That’s…” He trails off, blinking a few times at you. You didn’t know whether to be worried that the person you had called to pick you up was now drunk or find it amusing that he got drunk off one cup of alcohol.

“Bitter.” He finishes with a scrunched-up face.

You burst out into laughter, bending over at the waist to gasp for air. You tried to let go of his hand so that you could clutch at your abdomen but Satan refused, tightening his grip to the point where it was mildly painful.

“Are you actually drunk?” You ask, stifling your laughter with much effort. You couldn’t believe he was this much of a lightweight.

“I’m not, human. But no.”

He was starting to speak gibberish. This made you highly amused. You hadn’t seen Satan be this…openly vulnerable before. It was a far cry from the intimidating demon you first met in the winter.

“Human. Stop laughing.” 

Satan reaches forward, presumably to grab you by the shoulder but overshot, knocking both your foreheads together – both of you tumbling to the ground under his weight, his hands flying behind your head to cushion your fall.

“Urgh, get off.” You tried to push the demon off you but he was persistent on doing his best impression of a slug, sprawling out over you and refusing to move an inch. You would normally be nervous at his close proximity if not for the fact that you are currently having difficulty breathing under his weight.

 “Hey, woah–”

With as much effort as you can muster, you shifted into a better position and spotted Joshua standing in the doorway looking lost at your predicament.

“Please help.”

.

With his aid, you managed to fight coax Satan into the backseat of Joshua’s car.  You were initially planning to sit up front with your classmate to give directions but the demon had refused to let go of your arm, forcing you to stay in the backseat with him.

(“Is he from our school?” Joshua glances briefly at the demon clinging to your arm with an mirthful smile. You can feel the embarrassment burning hot at the tip of your ear.

“Oh, he’s actually my roommate.”

“I’m a demon.” The demon beside you slurred, head knocking back into the seat. For the sake of your reputation, you sincerely prayed that he wouldn't throw up the contents in his stomach.

"Haha, he's been into roleplaying lately." You spun up a lie quickly with an awkward smile. Looking at Satan's peaceful expression, you wonder if you should give him a good smack and call it a day.)

Within minutes, you had arrived at your apartment and Joshua was already opening the car door to help you lift Satan up.

“Only want my human,” The demon’s eyes were half-lidded as he murmured under his breath, all while resisting Joshua’s help to bury his head deeper into your lap.

“You smell nice.”

As much as you wanted to read into this, you couldn’t help but be conscious of the third presence watching both of you. You dearly hope that your classmate couldn’t hear the demon’s drunk mutterings.

“Why does he, uh, call you human?”

Well, there goes your reputation.

“He’s going through his second puberty.” You lied, “Eighth grader syndrome, am I right?” You forced out another polite laugh, before jabbing your fingers into Satan’s side hard.

The demon jolts up with a bolt, covering his mouth as he winced. Joshua took this opportunity to wrestle him out of the car, taking one of his arms to throw over his shoulder as you stationed yourself on the opposite side to do the same.

.

“Thank you for your help.”

Both of you had managed to deposit Satan on the couch and were now catching your breath, winded from the exercise. Thankfully, the lift was working today and you didn’t need to lug the demon up the flight of stairs.

“Do you want a drink before you leave?” You offered, straightening up and determined to play your part as a good host. Although you didn't know Joshua that well, he seemed like a nice guy and you also wanted to make up for Satan's actions.

“Sur–”

“Me first, human.” A voice loudly interjected into your conversation from the sofa, “Hell’s Coke.” The demon demanded, arranging himself into an upright position. He looked clear-headed as if he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol despite how he was slumped over a minute ago.

“Uh–” Joshua started again.

“Human, I said I wanted a drink.”

You looked at Joshua apologetically, walking quickly into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water as you gently ushered him out to the hallway. Your patience was getting low and you no longer wanted him to witness any more of the demon’s tomfoolery.

“Wait!” As you prepared to close the door on him, Joshua paused to look at you expectantly – it felt as if you had withheld a toy from a puppy and they were now expecting you to play fetch. “Can I expect to see you around again?”

You paused, thinking through your answer before opening your mouth to reply–

“--No, bye.”

Satan had shut the door in his face.

.

“...”

The demon’s face was flushed again as he leaned against the door, one hand raised above your head. You tried to even your breathing, closing your eyes to meditate.

“Don’t you think you were being rude?”

“Was I? I’m sorry.”

His face showed no remorse, as he peered at your facial expression closely, his sea-green eyes much brighter than usual. You had the burning urge to shy away from his gaze but you insisted on keeping your grouchy expression.

“You don’t sound sorry.”

“He was trying to hit on you.”

You looked at him, trying to control your emotions that were threatening to spill over. You could feel your eyebrow twitching, and all you wanted to do now was take a long, hot bath and turn in for the night.

“He drove us home safely so the least you could do was to thank him. And why does it matter to you?” You spat out, feeling the words form awkwardly through your gritted teeth. 

Satan had you backed against the door, forcing you to crane your neck just to look up at him. Your thoughts were in disarray; heart puzzled by the sudden affection from him. You wanted a clear explanation from him.

He stayed silent, brows thoughtfully knitted together.

Oh.

The silence gave you your answer. You are left with the residual realisation washing over and you are powerless in the face of it, unable to do anything but exhale deeply with a slow breath – you ducked under his arm to leave the suffocating situation. 

“I think I was jealous.”

You swirled around, eyes wide. Your gaze glosses to the right, unable to meet his eyes. You thought you had heard him wrongly, but the demon stood there, looking as though he had made up his mind.

“You think?”

Had Satan, the Avatar of Wrath, just confessed to being jealous? 

“No, I was jealous.” He corrected with a frown, folding his arms over his chest. “I wanted to cut open his throat for having the impudence to talk to you.”

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry.

He took a step closer, face set in icy determination. Something about his demeanour reminded you of a predator and you were his prey, waiting to be devoured. Your ears ring a steady buzz, spiraling you into rapid confusion.

“I want my jealousy to be justified, MC.”

His words were no louder than a mere whisper but each syllabus tugged on your heartstrings as he grabbed at your forearm, pulling you in close to him. This was the first time Satan had ever addressed you by name, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be happy; disoriented at the conflicting feelings within you.

“I like you so much, I don’t even know what to say.”

I’ve never felt this greedy in my life before. Was I fated to meet you? I don’t know but the only thing I know is this,” He briefly looks at the clock hanging in the living room and clears his throat, “I want you to remember this moment, at 3 AM on the 20th of April, this is the time I have utterly fallen for you.”

.

Satan sits on the couch, a respectful distance away. You swear you could still feel his touch on you, a lingering sensation sizzling on your bare skin. His stare bores into you, reverberating through your body from your toes to the crown of your head.

You feel seen. Even now, the demon was giving in to you – you know it must be eating him up to wait but he was letting you take things at your pace.

“I’m confused.” You admit in a small voice, trying to gauge his expression. “I can’t stop thinking about the what-ifs.” 

He waits for you to continue.

“No matter what, you’re a demon and I’m a human.” The mood took a sharp left turn at your words, hanging heavy in the air. “Will there ever be a happy ending for us?”

Satan calls your name, eyes gentle as he scoots nearer to you. “You won’t know if you don’t try.”

“But what if we try and it doesn’t work?”

“Then I’ll kill myself and find you in my next life.” He says simply.

The comment was so sudden that you let out a huff of laughter, wiping at the corner of your eyes in disbelief.

“Do demons even believe in reincarnation?”

“We don’t but I’ll make it work.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“This is your only chance to say it now.” He stares at you with earnest eyes, grabbing your hand and holding it up to his face to nuzzle at you affectionately. “Are you willing to take the risk?”

“Okay.” You say, or at least that’s what you think you say, your voice suddenly distant over your rapid heartbeat and the room increasingly getting smaller. “Okay.” You blurted out again because up against a demon like Satan, what can one do except give their whole being?

Before you knew it, you were already climbing onto his lap, and with a gentle motion, you were kissing him – his lips part for you beautifully as you tilt your head gaining more access.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of his steady heartbeat mixed with yours, a delightful symphony to your ears. Deliriously, you wonder if you could crawl inside and make yourself home.

.

Cold.

The flitting freezing temperature dragged you back to the land of the living – the abnormal heat that the demon beside you was producing was not enough to starve off the chill of the night. 

“Satan.” You garbled, words slurring together as the hands around your waist pulled you in closer. “Close the damn window, it’s so cold.”

“The window is closed.”

The unfamiliar voice should have been the first sign to inform you something was wrong. Unfortunately, you were frankly too worn out from the day’s event to care. Stretching, you turn your head to nuzzle into Satan’s bare chest.

“Satan, Avatar of Wrath.”

You feel the demon beside you tense.

“Lucifer, what are you doing here?”

The call of the name rings a bell in your head. Was this the older brother that Satan had mentioned to you before? You didn't have the best impression of him, especially after what the blond-haired demon had told you.

“This situation has gone on long enough.” Honestly, you were pretty astonished that the demon standing in the middle of your room was nonchalant enough to simply avert his eyes from Satan’s half-naked form.

“How long are you planning to act like a child? You’re even dragging humans into your mess.”

Yikes.

You lifted the blanket higher, making sure to cover your entire self as you blearily blinked the sleep away from your eyes. Once your vision focused, you could vaguely make out the silhouette of the demon – he was at least more decently dressed than the last one, though you wondered about the practicality behind the number of wings.

Somehow it seemed like breaking and entering into humans’ houses were part of the Devildom curriculum because this was already the third demon to enter your house without an invitation.

“Don’t talk to me like I am a child.” The demon behind you spat out all while gently rubbing his hands over yours in a comforting action. Slowly, he lifted the blanket up to get out of bed, stretching as he did so.

“I’ll stop when you stop behaving like one.”

You winced. The tension in the room seemed to thicken and the once sub-zero temperature had disappeared giving way to the rising heat from their words. You shuffled awkwardly under the blanket – maybe if you acted like everything was normal, the other demon in the room would ignore your presence.

Wrong.

“You’re MC, correct?”

“Yes.” You squeaked out, startled by the sudden spotlight on you.

“I apologise for my younger brother’s behaviour. Thank you for tolerating him for the past six months. He will be going back with me now.”

“Wai–”

“Who says I’m going back?” Satan interrupts you, hands placed protectively in front of you. The glint in his eyes darkened and you could tell this didn’t please the older demon one bit.

“Avatar of Wrath, what do you mean by that?”

“I said what I said. I’m not going back.”

You cringed at the use of the title. Even you knew that meant serious business. The inky smooth wings behind Lucifer fanned out, expanding to their full width, a beautiful yet menacing sight. You could practically use a knife to cut the tension in the room. 

Oh no.

“Wait!” You shout desperately, yelping when red piercing eyes turn to look at you. The embedded jewel in the middle of his forehead catches a glint of moonlight from the window beside him, somehow making him look even more terrifying.

“Human, do not interrupt our–”

“Do not talk to my human like that–”

“Hey, I said wait!” You panicked, making a move to get off the bed when a flash of blond hair blocked your sight, a displeased frown on Satan's face as he pulled up the blanket higher to cover you. You had completely forgotten your state of undress in your alarm to deescalate the fight.

“Don’t move just yet. I’ll settle this with him, okay?” He spat out the syllabus, before reaching down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Satan.” You start, reaching out to hold his face. The demon nods, immediately squatting and attentive to your every word. You shake him from side to side, stroking the side of his face delicately. “I think you should go back too.”

“Wha–”

He look struck by your words, dismay written all over his face as clear as day.

“No.” You cut him off firmly before he could rebut back. “You promised Mammon, remember? Half a year had already passed, meaning we both had fulfilled our part.”

Satan still looked betrayed, his eyes round and wide. His lower lip trembled slightly and it was visible that he abhorred the very idea of leaving you.

“Listen, can’t you come to find me whenever you want anyways?” You huffed again, racking your brain for another solution to convince him.

“Or I can just make Solomon summon you every time I miss you. Distance isn’t that big of an issue for us right, honey?” 

You knew you had chosen the right argument when a blush sits high on his cheek. You couldn’t believe it. Does he like the nickname? You take note of the information and store it at the back of your head.

He coughs, hiding his flush behind one hand as he turns around. Standing up, he turns to face Lucifer.

Huh. The more you know, you suppose. 

“Okay, I’ll go back with you.”

The other demon, understandably looks disorientated at the change of heart. He blinked once, then twice as he shifted to a more intimidating stance. “Who said that I approved of your relationship?”

Maybe you shouldn’t have counted your chicken before it hatched. And was it just you? You get the feeling the demon named Lucifer seemed to be very overprotective over his siblings, somewhat like a mother hen. Or maybe this was a Devildom custom, demons needing their older siblings to approve of their relationship. However, with what you have witnessed so far, you get the idea that he was just the demon version of an overbearing tiger mum.

Before you could speak, a voice cut in. You couldn’t help but admire how the muscles on his back flexed as he spoke, “Isn't Lord Diavolo planning a human exchange program in the near future?"

Your demon cleared his throat before continuing, "I believe Lord Diavolo would be happy to find out that I am furthering relations with a human, or would you want to take this away from him?”

The red-eyed demon stays silent, his wings fluttering in agitation. For a long second, you held your breath waiting for a retort that never came.

“Fine,” Lucifer said, tone resembling that of a grumble. Though, you could tell that even he knew he had lost the battle of words. “I’ll report this back to Lord Diavolo first.”

“Though, I expect you to be back in the Devildom by sunrise. You have missed out far too much at RAD and I need you to be able to catch up with all of the work within a week.”

“Understood.”

Satan just nods. Your mouth hangs open, unhinged at the jaw. It was an unreasonable request that the older demon had put in but you couldn't bring yourself to feel too bad for your boyfriend (?) since it was a situation that he had created in the first place.

.

You couldn’t believe that worked.

Honestly, you were almost certain that a fight would have broken out. But somehow one way or another, your apartment lives to see another day.

Satan sits beside you on the bed, tugging you in for a hug. Tilting your head, you place a chaste kiss on his lip which the demon tries to further deepen. With a chuckle, you pull away, watching in delight as he chases after you.

After the whole fiasco, you only had one question on your mind.

“Are we together?” You ask, feeling your face go hot. Even if both of you had confessed your feelings earlier and you were fairly sure that both of you were on the same page, you still wanted verbal confirmation from him.

Satan interlocks your hands with him, humming playfully. You could feel his smile against your neck, as he nuzzled affectionately at you. “I’ll be yours if you will be mine.”

You wiggle away with a pout when he nibbles at the crook of your neck. Though you soon broke out into a smile, unable to stay mad at him for long.

“Guess we should get Solomon a gift for letting us meet, huh?”

“Probably.”

“And you’d still be failing Economics if I hadn’t tutored you.”

“Probably.”

"You know I'm surprised my landlord never found out I was housing another person here."

"Oh."

"Wait a minute, that 'oh' sounded suspicious."

"I didn't do anything bad, just that I may have made him think that the apartment was originally for two people."

"Satan!"

Maybe in some alternate reality out there, you would have been the human exchange student sent to the Devildom for cultural exchange. Or maybe in another reality, you may never even get the chance to meet him, after all, demons are as rare as a sunflower in a desert. But no matter what, you had him in your arms right now and that was all that mattered.

You guess one of the perks of being bad at Economics was getting to meet and fall in love with Satan, as sappy as that sounded. Which reminded you...

“Honey, I have my final exam coming up soon. Would you still tutor me?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I have much of a choice if I don’t want you to fail, love.”

a/n ▸ yippee! i wrote this piece over the expanse of a month and I am glad to finish this lol. i still have a lot of scenes that didn't make it to the main story but will be posting as a side story hehe, I hope you guys love this story as much as I did <3

[anistarrose]

I just saw a post with a very dangerous conflation of terminology going around (and on International Asexuality Day, no less!) so as a polite but firm, and apparently much-needed reminder:

Sex repulsed/averse, sex indifferent, and sex favorable are terms used by the asexual spectrum community to describe individual feelings and interest levels towards sex. You don't have to identify with any of these terms (all of the time, or any of the time) to be ace-spec, but lots of ace-specs consider them useful vocabulary — since we do, after all, exist on a wide spectrum.

These terms are not the same thing as being sex negative or sex positive, and they should not be used interchangeably! Sex negativity and sex positivity refer to attitudes towards sex in a societal setting, and the associated regressive, queerness-punishing societal norm (sex negativity) or movement to fix/overthrow that societal norm (sex positivity).

Calling sex repulsed asexuals "sex negative" conflates ace people's individual feelings about sex with societal sex negativity and cultural conservatism. Maybe not to you using that term, knowing what you mean, but to potential readers. And that doesn't mean you're consciously aphobic or anything, but it's still a vital misconception to address — because implying, accidentally or otherwise, that ace people are invariably sex negative or even responsible for sex negativity is pretty fucked up!

It encourages acephobia in queer communities (especially online ones), drives wedges between people who would otherwise be among each other's closest allies in the fight for queer liberation... and even neglects the fact that even sex repulsed asexuals suffer harm from sex negativity, too! Sex negative culture doesn't let you talk about asexuality without being accused of "oversharing," or "corrupting the youth!" That's, like, one of the aphobe talking points, even though it's just recycled homophobia and transphobia, and it proves the need to truly understand asexuality and sex positivity as forces that are by no means inherently opposed!

TL;DR: Please don't conflate sex negativity with sex repulsion or aversion — it feeds misconceptions that in turn feed aphobic discourse. This sex positive, sex averse ace, and many others in the same boat or similar boats, will all thank you for using the right wording!

[sluttycinderella]

Razorgate: an empirical, peer reviewed study*

*there is nothing genuinely scientific about this, it is merely a result of mental illness and unemployment.

So we all saw this right?

But after this bomb was dropped I began to get curious about the other slittenings. Did they use the same razor for all of them and no one had noticed? Do they actually own more than one razor? And if they don't, if this is truly the only phrazor, then I don't think I have to tell you that raises a lot of questions.

Firstly, I went back to where this all began, Phil's Birthday stream, to identify the razor that carved the very first slit and forever cemented itself as a part of herstory:

Now that is very clearly the Manscaped logo, no question about it. Here’s a high quality photo of the logo for comparison:

(You can also clearly see in the Twitter post that it says "Manscaped" across it but I like to double check my work and I also wanted to prove that they were both Manscaped)

And it's a good thing I did double check because OP made a CRITICAL ERROR in their post! They claim that the razor in question is the Lawn Mower 4.0 when in fact it's the Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra! Unlike the PUNY, PATHETIC, UNMANLY 4.0, the Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra comes with an interchangeable foil blade, a USB port, and a more advanced spotlight!

How could OP be so careless? Dan and Phil would never own an outdated razor! They require only the finest in ball shaving technology!

Also fun fact: The first appearance of the Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra on the Manscaped YouTube channel falls right in between the dapg return announcement and their first video back so make of that what you will...I for one shall be sculpting my own hill out of the very earth itself, "Manscaped Sponsorship Hill", I encourage you all to join me.

So after spending far too long researching the intricacies of razors that shave an organ I don't even have, I now needed to check if it was the same razor being used in every slittening:

Here they are side by side for comparison, left is Phil’s birthday, middle is the We're All Doomed post-premiere, right is Dan’s birthday. Now it appears the WAD one is missing the logo but I'm going to go ahead and chalk that up to the poor quality of the clip I found (if anyone has a better version PLEASE hit me up so I can confirm my hypothesis). And considering the photo taken in the aftermath seems to show Phil holding the 5.0 Ultra:

I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's the same thing.

“But,” I hear you shouting, “so what if Dan and Phil used the same razor for all the streams? They already said they only owned one razor so who cares?” Well this isn’t so much about proving that they’re the same razor as it is establishing a baseline. It’s hard to trust basically anything Dan and Phil say lately, what with piggate and the “pillow” bar and the fake view from the Phouse, knowing that they aren’t lying about only having one razor (to the best of our knowledge) is crucial in figuring out what exactly is going on. Remember, we’re doing science here.

And with that in mind: In my professional opinion, I can say that for all three slittenings, the Manscaped Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra was the weapon of choice.

Sidenote: I went down a bit of a rabbit hole of Manscaped reviews during all of this and apparently Manscaped razors are kind of just a scam. This razor is $109 and they try to trick their customers into subscribing to their "Peak Hygiene Plan" which you don't actually need by offering a deceptive discount and hiding the terms where people aren't likely to see them. So yeah, fuck Manscaped and I for one think we should cancel Dan and Phil for not ethically consuming under capitalism.

But that's beside the point, we know that they indeed only have one razor and that that razor...is for balls. What does that tell us?

Conclusions

There are a multitude of conclusions one could jump to in the light of such a revelation, I shall display them in a convenient numbered list for your viewing pleasure:

One of them prefers to use straight (lol) razors to shave their...you know...I don't actually know if this is a thing people do or if it's even possible, people with balls please sound off in the comments, thank you

Only one of them actually shaves in which case I support them as an infamous pussy hair enthusiast (iykyk)

They share a razor (Please, God, no, that's actually disgusting)

Either way, this thing was on someone's balls and then it touched both their faces so I really hope they cleaned it properly!

Alright, so that whole exploration may have been a bit useless, it indeed only confirmed what we had already been told, but I spent literal hours comparing photos of ball hair trimmers and I'm not one to admit defeat. Consider yourselves peer reviewed, Dan and Phil, and maybe check out Beardscape instead! Apparently they have better, more comprehensive razors for the same price.

If anyone even more demon than me has any corroborating evidence (maybe of them using straight razors at any point or anything else razor related that they've said in the past) please let me know so I can take it into consideration! Thank you all for your time.

[merakiui]

i agree with the assignments but hmmm... i think malleus should be gluttony and idia lust! I feel like the same reasons we can confuse idia for pride can be the reasons why he fits lust. Whereas the reasons malleus can fit greed, is why he's gluttony if that makes sense? Also when it boils down to it, i feel like malleus can be in a sexless relationship based on pure love but i can see idia blowing his lid if he gets continually denied. I also feel like malleus has more self control and even with biological ruts, he can hold back and not "make a mistake" where i feel like idia would downright demand darling to take care of his lust. I know we always joke abt shy subby uwu idia, but ppl forget who he represents and just how depraved he can be. It can get rlly dark w him and lust >_<. But malleus, i see more of like gluttony for life and experiences. I think nothing would make him happier than to be at the center of the table, surrounded by food and drink and company and having a ball of a time. Even as the night weighs on and people are exhausted, malleus wont dismiss them as yet because HE is enjoying himself and having a good time, to the point where he is the only one smiling at the table anymore and everyone else is tortured to be there because of his gluttony for companionship. Mal is a spoiled prince and if he lacked any less, he would be envy, but he has everything. He has a lot of pride too, but not infront of player, and when it boils down to it, Idia has desire, but Malleus really just has a hunger to be accepted and loved.

AAAA ANON, THESE ARE WONDERFUL POINTS!!!!! Very thought-provoking!!! I wanted to separate sex and lust for what I have in mind for the fic (and if I wasn't writing about the seven Overblots then Rollo would immediately take the sin of lust for very obvious reasons and symbolisms. <3). I definitely agree that Malleus and Idia fit lots of different sins and so it can be difficult to assign just one to them (as well as the rest of the cast, but it's a little easier for some of them,,, i.e. Riddle's infamous temper grants him wrath by default. Azul's insatiable avarice (when it comes to his contracts) grants him greed. Etc etc.)

I do think there is a solid difference between desiring something and hungering for it, but then they also pair well together from time to time. Perhaps desire gives way to hunger. To hunger for something is to do so out of desperation (in some cases), and since Malleus is such a lonely soul and has never truly had a connection in which someone looks past the lofty title of heir apparent and future ruler of Briar Valley it makes sense for him to hunger so desperately for that sort of connection. It's why he's unable to simply let Lilia go and why he doesn't want to lose him. He can't accept the finality of an ending or parting, which is why he puts everyone to sleep in hopes that they can all find happiness in their dreams.

I think you can also argue that Idia hungers a little in book six. He desperately doesn't want the job he's set to inherit, and even when he was little he wanted to find a way to escape with Ortho. But due to the circumstances and the curse of his lineage there's only so much that can be done, or so he views it as such.

Perhaps these sins are interchangeable with Malleus and Idia depending on how you frame it. They both desire and hunger for things in their own ways. Idia's guilt and stress overwhelms him and his idea of getting what he's always desired is to reset the world alongside Ortho. Malleus's loneliness and desperation to hold onto the bonds he currently has (his unwillingness to let these go, to accept the fact that everyone will inevitably grow old and that life goes on, his desire and/or hunger to be seen and accepted for himself)......... aaaaa it's great!!!!

Rambling aside, I do love the thought of Idia embodying lust and Malleus embodying gluttony. I'm still debating between the two, but now I'm inclined to lean more towards these assignments after reading your thoughts and dissecting my own. They're very fitting from your perspective!!! >w< also,,,, I like a very dark, messed up Idia, so perhaps pairing him with lust will make for very yummy concepts.

[atarathegreat]

Sunrise Tetta Kisaki

because i'm still shit at answering things apparently. love at first sight/soulmates, fluffy smutty, requested by @stygianoir. I won't speak to how well it fits the request, I'm not great at AU's

Kisaki didn't have the chance to worry about being late for his morning shower or being late for work, not when he had an automatic alarm that woke him up every morning. A whiny, loud, and obstinate alarm that he wished would just go back to sleep when she tugged at his arm.

"Tetta!" He hated how she dragged his name out, the cute way her lips pursed when she tugged as hard as she could only to be met with him grabbing her wrist and yanking her back. She was many things to him, and, at 6:30 in the morning, annoying was at the top of the list. Interchangeable as the day went, of course. "Tetta! We have to get up!" It was as if she actually thought she was strong enough to fight against the way he held her down.

It was one of his few days off, she wasn't about to 'Tetta, please!' her way out of it either.

"Tetta! Please!" The sound she made was somewhere between a growl and a whine, the same sound she'd made that caught his attention the first time he ever saw her.

She'd been with some punk who couldn't even keep his pants on his ass, his belt haphazardly looped through only two of his belt loops and not even buckled. Kisaki had been disgusted at the sight, giving his own silent growl for his disdain. In all his years he would never embarrass himself with such a look, let alone with a girl like that on his arm. Even then, her extremely ratty clothes and dirt covered face, he'd found her beautiful. Her striking eyes that angrily begged the loser to go to the rooftops and see the sunrise.

How could such a rabid looking woman be so sweet in the face of such filth? Kisaki didn't know. Didn't care. Though he did wish she would've swung on him.

"We're not going to the damn roofs! You can see the sun at any point in the day!" The man raised his palm, the girl refused to flinch, but the tightening in her muscles showed Kisaki that he had scared her. Tetta Kisaki was, among many things, a devil. Yet even he'd be damned if he watched something like that and walked by. "Come." Was all he'd said to the strange, dirty female, choosing to ignore her ripped jeans.

His office building was nearby and was taller than the other buildings. Perfect for her to watch the sun come up. A fool could proclaim that she was hideous, dirty and unworthy of a second look from any man adorned in a suit. Kisaki found that his eyes refused to stray from her reflection in the elevator walls. Messy hair framing an all too perfect and dirt smudged face, maybe that was a bruise on her jaw. So what her legs could be seen, scratched up, through the equally nasty tears in her jeans? Something about her was simply...enthralling.

"The sunrise!" But that squealing would have to stop.

It was the same squeal she still had as she jumped out onto the terrace, eyes sparkling as the dark sky faded to amazing purples and pinks on the horizon. For a moment, Kisaki saw her as the street rat he'd picked up. Only for a moment.

Despite her disgusting appearance, Kisaki knew he wanted her. Wanted to spoil her and keep her in the silkiest clothes, watch her sit in a bubble bath for hours if she so pleased. The best, Kisaki knew she deserved only the best. It was the look on her face, the absolute joy he could see in her smile that made him trust his decision even more. Fancy shampoos and conditioners so her hair always looked shiny, the most expensive clothes so she always looked gorgeous, and the best version of him that Kisaki could give her. If that meant getting up at the ass crack of dawn to watch the sun rise over the city, he'd buy her a whole damn penthouse of nothing but glass walls.

Wind whipped around them, throwing her hair around, "It's so pretty!" As cliché as he felt, Kisaki thought the only pretty thing was her. Sun rays peeked easily over the city after a few moments, and he took it as his cue to grab her hips and kiss her head, "I'm going to go shower."

Though she didn't respond, Kisaki knew she heard him. Muscles flexed beneath the thin shirt he wore to bed as he stretched upwards, bending backwards enough to pop his back once, twice, and three times. Routine was important to him, keeping everything as tasks that he needed to complete was how he managed to survive with a woman who was so...compulsive? She wasn't organized and it bothered him. Whatever she wanted to do, she did without planning it or checking to be sure she had time for it. Really, how had she managed to get anything done without him?

Raining water sounded behind Kisaki and he looked to see her turning the shower on to the temperature she wanted. "I'll shower with you!" Fuck, that smile paired with the image of her naked made his body tingle. "Sounds good to me." Kisaki folded his glasses and set them on the sink.

A brief second passed where he wondered if she knew just how hard she made him when she pulled her shirt off. Had she been teasing him on purpose? She must be aware of the way he loved her hips in shorts, hell, he stared too much for her to not notice. And, gods, the way her chest bounced as she moved was hypnotizing. For a man who preferred to take his time, Kisaki was on her heels as she stepped into the walk in shower.

"Thank you for always getting up and watching the sunrise with me." Soft, gentle, Kisaki would never tire of the way she spoke to him as if he were a skittish animal, "A new day needs to be started with the people you love."

His lips twitched as he fought the feeling in his gut. She was being cute, he shouldn't want to press her against the wall and-

"It's not a problem." Kisaki wrapped his fingers around her waist, using his thumbs to rub small circles into her skin, soothing his tension a fraction. Sometimes she wanted to just be sweet and not have sexual tension locked in the middle, and Kisaki wanted to give her that but he just found her too damn alluring when she sounded so coddling. "C'mere." He whispered, his voice becoming raspy as the water touched her everywhere he wanted to. Such a good girl she was, listening without question when he beckoned her. 'Jump' and 'how high?' came to mind, but he didn't want to control her that way. "Wait for cleaning..." His lips felt hot, touching her neck and pulling away with a stupid sucking sound Kisaki could do without.

"Don't take those fuckin' hands off me." Kisaki let out a low growl, going with his nastiest fantasy and pulling her leg up, "If you don't want to do this, say so now." Because once I'm buried in you, I don't think I'll be able to stop.

Feeling her hands on his arms was almost too much for him to take, and she still asked what was happening like she didn't know. She was a bit of a dunce, if he was honest with himself, maybe she truly didn't know when he planned on ravaging her. The thought only served to spur him on.

"Do what?"

Laughter echoed around them as he slumped his head on her shoulder. It was too funny for him that she truly had no idea. "You're so damn clueless sometimes." Kisaki nipped at her jaw, dragging his hands all over her. It was more enjoyable when she was caught off guard anyway.

And, gods, the way she gasped when he pushed into her without warning. The way she clenched around his intrusion and her mouth made a perfect 'o' was nearly enough to make him lose his mind, if her eyes rolling back hadn't already done it. Kisaki loved to start slow, growling as his hardening cock dragged and pushed against her insides, slow and steady so he could feel every little bit of her. "Do you have any idea how good you feel?" Kisaki sucked the hot air from the shower through his teeth. He couldn't shake the thought that she was made for him, it was impossible that she was meant for anyone else, not when she fit him like a custom made glove.

Her fingernails left sweet crescents in his shoulders and it was only fair that she matched his bruising grip on her thigh. Whines spilled from her pouty lips, begging and pleading for him to just hold all of her against the darkly tiled wall. "I won't be able to stand if you keep it up like this!" Those eyes. Damn those eyes of hers. She could order any man to destroy the world with only a look and knit brows. Or it was just Kisaki, gods, he hoped it was only him. And her thighs! How they squished when she sat was only a way for her to tease him, a way for her to catch him more off guard whether she meant to or not. As if Kisaki hated her, as if all the rage he'd ever felt was her fault, he yanked her other thigh up and squeezed until he was sure he'd develop carpal tunnel. "Oh, shit." Kisaki drilled into her, feeling as far as she could take him. "Tetta!" It was the only time her squeals were tolerated by him, even if she was slapping his arms fervently, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Like Heaven." Kisaki jerked up into her, "I lose my damn mind every. Damn. Time."

"What a potty mouth." Kisaki tried to keep it together as her body tightened around him, "You never spoke like this before." It took all of his self control not to cum when she did. Inside her was his favorite place, even more so when she was pulsating and the sounds that came from the new mess only spurred Kisaki on. A shiver ran down his spine as she latched her lips to his neck. A way, he'd realized a little too late into their relationship, that she managed to soothe herself from the sensitivity that was forced on her. Hickeys weren't something Kisaki liked to have, rather he loved gifting them, but it was cute to him that she needed to do it.

"Almost done, baby, almost done." Kisaki grunted, moving his hands to grip her ass, "Hold on a little longer." A trooper, a real fucking trooper this girl was to whine her response as he borderline brutalized her cunt. The dark spot that he was earning was almost worth the time he would have to take to make sure she was okay and to get her showered.

Maybe having her so early in the morning wasn't his best move, but she was too irresistible when his dick was calling the shots. Which happened to be a majority of the time. He couldn't help it when she whimpered so prettily and dug her nails in once more when Kisaki slammed her back into the wall. Her body and the wall were the only things keeping him upright as he finally came, his whole body tingling as if all his nerves had been pinched in all the right places.

"Feet down." Kisaki moved to set her down. She only strengthened her grip around him, "No, please...just hold me a minute?"

Strange wasn't the word he would use to describe her, per se, but she definitely wasn't anything he'd had before. Not that he minded holding her as the shower beat down on them and the hot water reddened their skin.

[patroxlos]

home base . ch6

"friends who are stuck together" - 5.7k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch5. "friends who fuck things up"

next: ch7. "friends who use their phones in bed"

kenji is confronted with his life abroad, his relationship with his dad, and your confusing back and forth

---

Ken Sato is born during his first week at the private school his mom enrolled him in when they moved to the States.

Being the only Asian kid in his class does not help. He is noticeably more tan than his peers and his angular eyes drew attention wherever he went. He cannot eat any of the hefty, greasy viands without rice— because what do you mean you slather the thickest cuts of beef with the sweetest sauces and expect him to eat it with dry bread?

But what confuses and frustrates him the most as a seven year old boy is how difficult it apparently is to say his name.

Kenji Sato. The most direct four syllables. And somehow they are still mispronounced everywhere he goes.

Ken-jay.

Say-toe.

And when they do not bother, children are surprisingly creative with making racially-motivated nicknames.

Sure, English does not come easy to him at that age. He cannot tell the difference between “knew” and “new”, and he struggles with his letter Ls, but if everyone around him is going to be smart about it then why can’t they pronounce his name? He cannot even recite in class without some little brat at the back named Bartholomew mocking his accent.

Still, Bartholomew shortens his own name to Bart.

And he becomes Ken, because it is easier that way.

Even so, all his awards and trophies throughout his professional career keep the ‘Kenji,’ simply because his mom gave him that name. His dad refrains from using Ken at all to this day, and it is not an aversion born from simple preference. You call him ‘Ken’ and ‘Kenji’ interchangeably, but you use ‘Ken’ the most when you are mad or to simply tease him.

He remembers his mom’s frown when his homework starts to get signed as Ken, and throughout the first year at the States it never stopped coming out to all his little changes. He knows she misses who he used to be; a bright, eager boy is now reduced to a sullen, quiet kid. Admittedly, that time is not filled with his fondest memories— he still remembers the smell of her opening up the spoiled, untouched bentos from his bag at the end of the day.

But, on the plus side, he definitely learns a lot of new English words from sitting outside the school office as his mom meets with just about everyone— the teachers, the principal, the district officer.

Failing.

Bullying.

Discrimination. He is proud when he eventually figures out how to spell this one.

It helps a lot that his mom shouts it out so he can hear it even with the door separating them. Will dad do the same if he was here?

It feels like nothing can make his mom smile during those days.

So he signs up for baseball, and she is thrilled.

He is too, until he meets his minor league team, and it turns out boys are meaner in sports than they are in the classroom.

This isn’t tee ball. They jeer, as he is easily one of the smallest there. He struggles to defend himself, but the only thing he can say are roughly strewn-together syllables. He can feel the bright beam of his mom’s smile being directed at him from the bleachers, and he will not be messing this up for her.

His teammates’ taunts don’t end until they see him swing.

He gives them something else to talk about as he sends the first pitch at practice to the other side of the field. He hears his mom cheering a loud ganbatte! and she is as glowing as ever.

He learns a new English word that day from his coach. Prodigy.

But even more so, he learns the quickest way to shut annoying shitheads up.

Because when he also hears one of his teammates guffawing about his mom speaking Chinese, he delivers another expert swing right at his face.

Despite the lecture his mom gives to him publicly in front of the other well-meaning parents, she still takes him for icecream right after practice.

“Kenji.”

“Yeah, mom?”

“Don’t go around starting fights like that again, but when you do, always make sure you win, okay?”

Ken misses her a lot, especially now.

“Dad, I can’t make more time to help completely change Emi’s potty sched again.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits across his dad at the dinner table. Not much dinner was being eaten, as papers were strewn at the center with their meals pushed to the side. Seriously, with all the technological advancements in this house you would expect them to at least use some laptops.

Hayao Sato points more insistently at one particular document. “Please just help me test out this theory, Kenji. Since her diet has increased by a lot now that we are letting her hunt for her own food, most likely her excretion needs have changed.”

“Well I think her poopies are just fine.”

“Kenji—”

“I believe you, okay!” He slumps back into his chair. “Believe me, I really do. But on a practical level, I’m already stretched thin as it is. Those books say that when babies establish a schedule it’s best to stick to it or else they’ll get confused. Now, if you could transform to do more than being a helicopter dad, so we can have at least two Ultramen on the team, then that would be fantastic!”

His mom might have been quick to argue back if she was here, but his dad carries a somber air that permeates into his skin and strikes his heart with guilt whenever he raises his voice against him. Hayao Sato is not the man he used to be— he is frail and feeble, and cannot raise his voice too high without straining his throat.

Even when his dad gets mad now or gives another of his droning lectures, Ken’s subconscious brain tricks him into feeling like the villain for making his dad stress his body like that. A year ago, he will not have cared at all. He might have thought it as reparations for abandoning him.

“You know I can’t transform yet…not right now.” Hayao bounces his leg under the table, an unconscious tick activating from the tenseness of their conversation.

There is a growing silence between father and son, and unknown to Kenji, his dad is also praying at the back of his mind for the grace of Emiko to teach him what to say. 

He misses you.

Other than his mom, you will know what to say to his dad. Hell, you’re closer to him than Ken is, given how you regularly visited him while he was alone in Japan. He ignores the bubbling envy as he broods over it. At least you have always been kind enough to never talk about his dad more than he was comfortable with.

Ken leaves the dinner table wishing his dad was a shittier person. He wishes his dad had taken the more traditional absentee route instead of being a literal superhero. It might have even been easier if Emiko actually divorced Hayao, but his mother never fails to remind Kenji that she loves his father very much.

He has always been made to feel like his resentment is more akin to selfishness. Millions of live depend on his dad, so what importance does a little league baseball game have compared to that? What right does he have? His parents make enough for his comfortable life. He is lucky enough to be in his dream job. And yeah, he’s mature enough to admit that he hated the Ultraman gig at first but now he has kind of grown into the service of it all.

So he hates his temper instead, because he does want to get along with his dad. He really does. It has been a few days since they have started tackling Emi as a team, but this newfound bond is not enough to patch the past two decades of empty chairs, curt calls and missed graduations.

He finds himself on a makeup chair the next day for his upcoming motorcycle ad under Motsubishi.

His makeup artist tuts as he looks at Ken’s black compression shirt. “It’s a shame you have to be so covered up for this one.”

From behind Ken, he hears his hairstylist giggle at that. “Motorcyclists have to get all covered up if they don’t want road rash,” she explains. “Of course, our baseball star knows his way around motorcycles.”

“Maybe he should start knowing his way around the ball field as well,” his MUA teasingly comments as he powders up Ken’s face.

He winces at the remark, and he tries not to show too much displeasure. Ken knows that if he blows up at them it will only spread around the industry that he is a sore loser. Which he is, and everyone already knows. He stays still on the makeup chair as he gives a nonchalant shrug. “Unlucky streak I suppose. Working on it.”

His hairstylist playfully swoons as she brushes his hair. “We’re still fans, Sato, don’t get us wrong. Being your fan has been pretty expensive lately though, with the amount of bets we put on you.”

“Hey, thanks for the love,” his media persona turns on with full charm. “I know I’m not supposed to promote any gambling, it’s all just family-friendly fun at the field, but you’ll get your money’s worth soon.”

“Now don’t go making empty promises.”

“My game can still pick up,” he defends himself.

His makeup artist rolls his eyes in jest. “Girl, your numbers aren’t looking too good now. I’ve seen Moneyball.”

“And that makes you a baseball expert? What, you gonna compute my ERA?” Ken flings back, but with an easygoing smirk.

The studio thrums with organized chaos as the entire shoot falls into place. The set managers are shouting out orders to the crew and large boxes of equipment are wheeled across the floor. The commercial director can be seen muttering to herself as the lights crew test out different lighting layouts on the sleek motorcycle positioned in front of a greenscreen. While the noise gives him a headache, Ken still takes the experience as a welcome break from his dad and all that is going on at home. At least, until he overhears a nearby conversation mention your name.

“I heard that she’s stopping by to do an ocular on the shoot.”

“Doesn’t she have a fashion week to go to instead?”

“What is she even going to do here except cuddle up to Sato?”

“I bet she’s only visiting because he’s here.”

“She’s acting as if she knows what she’s doing but all she’s done is fuck up all the current systems.”

“These fucking influencers, man. They don’t know any actual shit about business, and think they can coast by with botox and veneers.”

“If she wants to fool around with her boy toy she should’ve asked her daddy to—”

“Hey,” His makeup artist speaks up before he can say anything. “Do you want to chat louder for the rest of us? We can’t hear you.”

The small group of crew members startle from the sarcastic bite, and hastily, they file away to get back to work. Ken only realizes then that his knuckles were turning white from the grip he had on his chair.

For the world always constricts you to specific S words. Scion. Socialite. Slut.

He notices when he scrolls through social media that it has gotten worse in the past few months when it was made public that you are officially being groomed for your new CEO position. It’s all sinister, from the comments on your body to the tweets regarding your shallowness.

He is pulled out of his thoughts when his makeup artist taps his clenched jaw.

The hairstylist coos at him as he tries to relax. “Aww, it’s okay Sato, we know how much your girlfriend means to you.”

“She’s…a friend,” Ken corrects her uncertainly. His makeup artist snorts in disbelief, but surprisingly does not comment.

The silence is getting a little uncomfortable for Ken. He bites his tongue to prevent himself from saying more.

“Ex?” His hairstylist supplies, hoping to be helpful.

“...no?” He sounds even more unsure now.

The group does not notice how the room goes a bit silent.

“She wasn’t asking a question.” His makeup artist points out as he contours his cheekbones. He cannot keep his curiosity at bay any longer as he continues, “So…baby mama?”

“She wishes,” Ken jokes to try to get them to drop the topic, and it is immediately greeted by a small round of amused snickers between them, including one that makes his stomach flip a bit.

“Do I?”

His hairstylist drops the brush she was holding, and his makeup artist nearly topples over his kit when he jumps back. Ken turns in his makeup chair to see you crossing your arms with a smirk on your face. You naturally draw attention, especially in the bold power suit you are wearing.

You turn to the head stage manager, who is standing near you. “How many minutes ‘til shooting?”

“T-thirty.”

“Thank you thirty.” You give her a glamorous smile. “I’ll borrow our star for a bit until then. I’ll have him back in fifteen.”

Before Ken can tell you to wait, he stumbles out of his chair as you grab his elbow. You escort him out of the studio and into the hallways, all eyes on you both. He regains his bearings, and tugs himself out of your hold to get you to stop your brisk walk.

“I need to get back there.”

You wave at him dismissively. “We have time.”

“You don’t understand,” his words firm up as he grabs your wrist to tug you back in the room. “We can’t be seen out here alone.”

Your attention is elsewhere, and when you spot a supply closet nearby you use his grip to pull him with you inside. He stumbles again as he follows you in, uttering protests when you proceed to lock the door.

The lighting of the closet is dim, and he has to steady himself with one hand against the shelf above your head with how cramped the space was. A mop falls and whacks the back of his head as you two adjust yourselves, and you stifle a giggle as he looks down at you, unamused.

Ken has no time for your jokes. “Do you have any idea what this would look like if people saw us like this?”

“They make stuff up all the time,” your breath hits his face with the familiar taste of your toothpaste. “This is urgent.”

“We can talk after the shoot,” he tries to reason with you. “Look, I don’t want to hurt your feelings but I heard them talking shit—”

“—you know that doesn’t matter to me—”

“And they’re saying that you came here just to see me—”

“Dude, I—”

“—so we need to get back as soon as possible before the shoot gets delayed.”

You clasp your hands over his mouth, shushing him to be quiet. Like instinct, his hands reach for you, softly holding your elbows. You look him dead in the eye as you say “But I did come here to see you.”

His stomach does a flip, and he eases closer to you. You rest your back uncomfortably on the shelves of detergent and floorwax.

“Y-you haven’t messaged me since the call,” you stammer, and he can feel from your touch the little anxious tremors that wrought your body. You have always been so confident out there, but just like Ken, you can get so vulnerable when you are alone. “I know this is inappropriate but my anxiety has been acting up the past few days and I can’t stop worrying that I did something wrong.”

He takes a sharp breath as he pulls your hands off his mouth by your elbows. Your hands slide down to the corners of his shoulders. “Oh shit— oh shit I’m sorry. I completely forgot— so much has been happening…And this doesn’t mean that I wasn’t thinking about you. I was. I always do.”

You relax at his rambling, and he struggles to shut himself up before he embarrasses himself.

You gently squeeze his shoulders to calm him down. “Okay, okay…that’s good. I was worried…that you started hating me again.”

“I never hated you,” he is quick to assure, even though deep down he knows that he had moments where he was close to. “I get mad but I don’t…I can’t imagine ever hating you.”

His hands fall from your elbows to rest against the shelf digging into the back of your waist. You loosely hold his biceps as you purse your lips. Your voice nearly cracks a bit when you say “Even after what happened three years ago?”

“Especially then.” He glances the soft bump of your throat as you take a nervous gulp.

“Kenji…” You look up to the low ceiling. “I…I shouldn’t have asked you to come over. It was stupid and impulsive.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed so quickly. I was being impulsive too.” The distant proximity is palpable to him as he counts the inches apart his chest is from your face. His neck aches from hunching over you.

“No, but I knew you would say yes,” you wearily sigh. Your head lolls to the side, still looking away from him. “I’m always the person who sets the boundaries and ends up breaking them.”

His silence says it all.

He agrees.

But it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy it when you do.

“I’m just standing by what I promised you,” he finally says. “Friends. We’ll always be that.”

You slowly nod. “It’s for the best. Did you record that call?”

“I was too worried about your arm.” He looks down at the sleeve of your suit jacket. You instinctively cross your arms and he misses the familiar warmth of your palms against his skin. His hand reaches up to touch the soft wool fabric. “Does it still hurt?”

“It’s healing pretty well. All in all it’s just a big bruise,” you shrug. “I’m… I’m glad you didn’t record it. I’m kind of embarrassed by…” You look down to your shoes. “...By what I said.”

There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, he wants to say. But he knows he might be inviting something more, encouraging more in the future.

He changes the subject. “...You haven’t seen my dad in a while. He told me the other day.”

You finally look up at him again. “Been a bit busy, but I’ll make time. He still staying with you?”

“Yeah,” his tired tone tells all.

And he hates the look you put on whenever he mentions his dad— that measured, cautious stare marked by a hesitance to broach the subject. He cannot fault you for it because he never likes talking about his dad with anyone, but he doesn’t like it when you get like this.

“It’s fine,” his words cut through the quiet before you can say anything. “It’s…added company. It isn’t just me and Mina anymore.”

“But you see others all the time right?” You try to cheer him up.

“...What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, maybe like, your other friends?” You explain.

His mouth fills with a bitterness. He has never had any other friends he can say he is any close to. “...right,” he drawls.

“Ken, I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be with you at any moment,” you say it so sincerely he almost winces. “Of course you have friends. You were getting along with the staff earlier.”

“That’s just small talk,” he deflects.

You look like you want to argue more, but you hold it in.

“Anyway, are we done here?” The closet was getting stuffier by the minute. “I don’t want them gossiping any more than they probably are right now. We’ve been in here for a bit.”

“They’re not saying anything new.”

He gives you a sharp glare, mirroring your crossed arms. “I don’t want you getting used to it.”

“I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt,” you snip. “It just doesn’t concern you. I’m doing my best to handle it.”

Now that is the stupidest thing he has heard you say in a while. “By openly pulling me out of the room right in front of everyone? Yeah, you’re doing a great job at handling it.”

“What do you want from me?” Your voice raises higher than you want it to.

“To stop being so confusing with what you want!” He says before he thinks. “One day we’re just friends the next you’re pouting about me being too busy for you.”

“So if we weren’t interrupted by your dad, you wouldn’t have went to me?” You laugh without humor. “You’re the one who always acts like you’re going to die if I don’t give you attention. You haven’t changed in ten years.”

“And who is the one who is risking getting kicked out of the company just to see me for a few minutes? Who is the one who always looks like she’s about to cry over worrying about messing up with me?”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” he towers over you.

“You know, you have a lot to say for a guy who always comes to me when I ask him to.”

He does not flinch.

You stand facing each other, the walls closing into you. Ken can feel the beads of sweat forming along his hairline as the temperature rises inside the closet from the heat of the tension.  If he was a weaker man, he might have just closed the seven inches that kept you apart. 

“This brings back memories,” he admits.

“Memories we’re not going to repeat,” you finish his thought, trying to take a step back in the minimal space.

“You practically pulled me in here.”

“Believe me, if I wanted to fuck you I would’ve pulled you into the restroom.”

“Like at that gas station?” He relishes in the way your face contorts, and he can’t help it— a chuckle escapes him that has you smacking his chest.

“Okay that was really fucking gross,” you cringe at the memory as he chuckles even harder. “It’s not funny!”

“You were definitely ovulating back then.” He lets you smack him some more, and he nearly bumps into the shelf in front of him as he hunches over even more in laughter. You struggle to keep the smile off your face as you let out your own small giggles.

You take a small step closer to Ken, and your back aches from the posture of having to look up at him. “That was years ago,” you whine but your giggling says otherwise.

“Okay, okay,” He raises his arms up to stop your assault, each hit getting weaker after the other. He cannot help the fond smile he shows when he looks down at you, and as you slowly stop shoving him against the shelves behind him, he lets you bury your face into his chest to hide your mortification.Together, your giggles slowly die down in the warm closet. He ruffles your hair comfortingly.

You mumble nonsense against his shirt. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

“You promised you wouldn’t bring it up again.”

“I never said that.” He tries to peer down to your face but you refuse to lift your head up.

“You deserve to die in a fire.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that, baby.”

You lift your head up to give him a dirty look. “Ugh, shut up. ”

Without ceremony, you both shuffle out of the closet. The stale air of the hall feels chilly as it wafts through you two. Ken subconsciously fixes his hair and shirt even if there is no need to, the muscle memory of being close to you like that is kicking in.

“You better go back. I’ll hang around here for a bit before following so that it doesn’t look like we were doing anything,” you say as you wipe the sweat off your temple.

Ken bites the inside of his cheek. If they would’ve talked about us like that anyway, we should have just done something.

But he respects your agreement.

The shoot goes well and on-schedule. His makeup artist does not question why he needs a small touch-up, his bronzer slightly muddled from his sweat, but all in all he is a professional. The director gushes that he should go into modelling full-time when baseball stops working out. He cannot see you the entire shoot. The studio lights are too bright for him to see anything beyond the cameras pointing at him.

He tries not to make it obvious after they wrap that he searches for you throughout the studio, but when it is clear you have left midway the schedule, he says his polite goodbyes and heads over to the parking lot.

“Mina,” he commands into his motorcycle helmet as he climbs onto his ride. The AI buzzes to life. “I need you to send a quick email.”

Ken comes home to his dad doing yoga with Emi at the center of the Ultrabase. Emi’s large head combined with her tiny little arms makes her struggle with the triangle pose, but she is diligently following her grandfather. She lets out tiny squawks to ask if she is doing it right.

“That’s it little Emi,” Professor Sato encourages her gleefully. “Just stretch out to the sky.”

Before Ken can say anything, Mina flies circles around the baby. “Look, Emi! Daddy’s home!”

The baby kaiju nearly falls over when she spots Ken coming out of the elevator. The floor rumbles with every step as she runs towards him, and he sees his dad struggle to keep himself on his feet from the mini earthquakes. His ears fill with her excited gurgling. The sight of a large monster bounding straight at him does not faze him any longer, and with practiced proficiency he transforms into Ultraman in a blink of an eye and catches his little Emi.

“Hi cutie Emi! You’re bonding with your jiji?” His fatigue melts away when she immediately chirps in response. She wiggles in his hold excitedly. Ken sits cross-legged as he sets her down on his lap, letting her crawl around as much as she likes.

His dad finds his walking stick, and he slowly hobbles towards him. He looks more frail when Ken is in his Ultraman form. “She’s getting more flexible by the moment,” he shouts for Ken to hear. “Emi saw me do some of my physical therapy exercises and she wanted to join in.”

Emi purrs in agreement. He strokes her head as she settles into his lap.

“That’s good. She’s been kind of gaining weight—”

“Kenji, that’s not nice to say about a young girl,” Mina chimes in.

“You know that’s not what I meant Mina.” His bright irises shoot daggers at the floating robot, who only beeps back.

“I understand,” his dad says mirthfully. “Better to keep her in a healthy weight or else she might struggle to hold her head up by herself.”

“Thank you, dad,” He exhales before giving another pointed look at Mina, his emotionless silver face saying it all.

This is the first time they have agreed on anything in the past few days.

“So…dad…I…” It is easier for him to talk to his dad in this form, oddly enough. It creates a good distance, a boundary. It feels less real and intimate.

Professor Sato tilts his head to the side when he hears his tone. “Yes? Did anything go wrong today?”

“No! No, everything was fine today. Great day at work,” he stalls. “Thanks for looking after Emi while I was away.”

“Anytime, Kenji.”

“And thanks…thanks for…sticking around. I wasn’t being fair to you last night and I shouldn’t have gotten mad.” He slumps in his gigantic form, a show of penance.

Professor Sato grips the head of his cane a little tighter, as he looks up at his son. “Kenji, I hope you know I’m proud of you for apologizing like that. You didn’t have to because I know you didn’t mean what you said, but…It means a lot to me that you still took the opportunity to.”

Ken’s shoulders might have sagged in relief if he didn’t hear the words ‘I’m proud of you’ come out of his dad’s mouth. If anything, he freezes up.

“Kenji?”

“...Y-yeah…Um, thanks, dad.” He tolds Emi tighter on his lap, and the baby just purrs more at the added comfortable pressure.

“He got something for you,” Mina tells Professor Sato as she hovers nearby.

“You didn’t have to do that,” his dad brightens up. “What is it?”

He pauses a second too long, so Mina projects a screen showing your calendar schedule for the next day. While the other appointments are censored, at the bottom it clearly states ‘8PM - Meeting with Hayao Sato.’

“I, uh, I know you haven’t seen her in a while so I emailed her assistant to schedule something,” He mumbles, sheepish about doing something nice for his dad for once. “She’s coming here, so you two can stay upstairs while I watch Emi in the basement.”

“That’s…” Hayao is silent for a moment. “That’s really kind of you Kenji. Thank you.”

“No problem….dad…”

Hayao let out a loud sigh, and Mina brings over a stool for him to sit on. “Honestly, I’m glad she still wants to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” He asks, confused. He never hears about you and his dad fighting. He does not think you ever have.

“Well…She must have not taken the fact that you’re Ultraman quite well.”

Now Kenji was fully at a loss as to what his dad was talking about. He leans forward to hear him better. “She doesn’t know. I didn’t tell her. You and mom made me swear not to tell anyone.”

His dad startles at this revelation. “You never did? I…I was afraid of seeing her because I thought she knew.”

“Why did you expect me to tell her?” He is annoyed. Sure, you are his closest friend, but he understands the gravity of concealing his hero identity.

“Because I told her I was Ultraman.”

The revelation shocks him stiff that his colortimer goes off. The sudden shift to his human form causes him to trip over himself and fall on his bottom. Emi cries as she suddenly falls down to the ground as well, but she mitigates her stress to turn to her own daddy to check if he is okay. She squints her beady eyes in concern for him as she crawls towards his smaller form.

But Kenji treads around her to walk straight for his dad.

“What do you mean she knows?! She knew all this time and she didn’t tell me?”

Hayao raises a hand to gesture for him to calm down. “I only told her when I got injured. She was the only one left here that I can trust.”

“That’s still months. Why hasn’t she said anything?” He laughs bitterly. Fuck, you think you know someone.

“I don’t know,” his dad croaks. “And she has her reasons, but that’s not important now—”

“What do you mean it isn’t important now? My best friend knew my deepest secret this entire time! I, I needed someone to talk to about this, dad. You don’t understand—”

“You can shout at me more later.” His dad got up from his seat, impatient. “What I need to know now is if you’ve told her about your ultra.”

“For the last time, no!” He spits out. “I would have, if either of you fucking told me she knew about you.”

“Then you best keep it that way,” his dad grunts, muttering to himself.

Kenji runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Hell no. I’m telling her as soon as I see her.”

“That is a bad idea.” His dad stomps his cane into the floor. “Under no circumstances should you tell her or anyone else that you are the Ultraman. You can let her know that I used to be, but you absolutely cannot tell her about yourself.”

“She’s probably smart enough to have figured out that I am Ultraman! What’s the issue?”

“No, no she wouldn’t think you are…” His dad mutters to himself, and Ken is confused as to why he sounds so sure that you don’t. “She most likely thinks I have taken up a protégé.”

Emi chirps with more worry as she watches them fight. The yelling makes her flinch, and Ken can tell that if this stretches out longer, her fear response will kick in.

He runs his hands over his face, groaning, before reluctantly nodding. “Fine, you win. But I’m definitely asking her why she never said anything.”

“Okay, okay good…” Hayao collapses on the stool, the fight tiring him out. The absolute relief on his face stuns Ken, who takes a step back before walking away without saying anything else.

He leaves the basement angrier than he was when he left the dining table last night, feelings of shock and betrayal coursing through his blood.

His dad is hiding something from him.

You are hiding something from him.

And this definitely goes beyond regular superhero secrecy.

A/N: okie fun stuff abt the process of writing this chapter

- i actually wanted to write an entire fic exploring and showcasing my character analysis of kenji sato especially centering on his relationship w his dad, but i was worried that it was going to be boring lmao since last chapter that him sucking faces with u so i decided to stagger it throughout the rest of his story. it's bc i saw some ppl online saying like "others only care about kenji bc hes hot but they mischaracterize him bc of it they dont know him like i do." and when i saw that i went. "hm this definitely isnt abt me...maybe it's u who doesnt know him like i do" so i feel the need to prove that i understand hes sexy but with layers lmao so that i can have the license to slut him out as much as i want !!! it's because it is really important for me that the reader in the story feels like an actual character who contributes to the plot as opposed to just being tacked on the movie, and with that, it means figuring out what you can do for kenji.

- a lot of the comments tell me that i characterize kenji well and i feel like it's because i relate to him so much? it feels like his spirit possesses me when i write for him lmao he and reader werent actually supposed to fight in the closet but while i was writing the dialogue i felt him being pissed off by what u r saying and i just went w it.

- "thank you (time)" is actually a time-keeping courtesy during productions because it shows that you are aware of the time! not everyone does it but it's fun

- moneyball is a really popular baseball film that uses baseball as a backdrop for us to explore the human experience of being undervalued for who you can be. u should watch it!

- i will write the gas station scene and it will be explicit. >:) . yes it's as gross as it sounds but in a hot way.

finally, i want to give you a warning: the next chapters might be lighthearted, but soon i will be delving deeper into kenji's insecurities and abandonment issues, coupled with the situationship. if you have ever been in a situationship or seen one happen, you know that shit qualifies for a veteran discount due to all the horrors you witness. dare i say it is worse than testicular torture. What makes a situationship so devastating is when both people involved bring in their insecurities with them. i need to give the reader a solid amount of flaws for this to work.

u may hate urself and what u will do. (i doubt it's anything new lmao)

[marzipanandminutiae]

Hey can I get your "history worker slash person who sews "insight on the words seamstress and tailor? Which ones do you use in a modern context? I just despise the contemporary word "sewist" but like. How do you best describe what you do (as a hobby, not professionally)? The gender implications are weird too..

Oh man. You have to realize that I LOVE feminized terms for myself. Adore them. If there were a word for a lady museum professional, I would use it all the time. I am Extremely Woman and I love shoving it in everyone else's face as much as possible. So I do really like "seamstress."

...but I've recently come to the realization that, in my period of greatest interest "seamstress" often just meant "woman who does basic sewing, not cutting and fitting and designing feminine garments." That was a dressmaker. So I use "hobbyist seamstress" and "hobbyist dressmaker" interchangeably. (There is no gendered term for dressmaker because it was often Assumed FemaleTM in the past. To the point where male dressmakers were sometimes called "man-dressmakers" and their hatmaking counterparts, "man-milliners." This sometimes carried connotations of homosexuality- though I've also seen an apparently hetero man, who owned a dressmaking business that his wife ran, called a "ladies' tailor." History is fascinating.)

Sewist is fine with me- I've also heard tailor used as a more masculine term, though some would argue that that has a distinct and specific meaning in the sewing world.

It's kind of a lacuna in sewing lingo, I agree! There really aren't many non-gendered terms for One Who Sews, or at least ones that aren't arguably for specific functions within the craft.

Of course you could always make like Amanda McKittrick Ros, wide-hailed Worst Writer of the 19th Century, and say that you engage in

"...the use of the finest production of steel, whose blunt edge eyed the reely covering with marked greed, and offered its sharp dart to faultless fabrics of flaxen fineness." (Delina Delaney, 1898)

[polliwoggers]

been struggling to draw lately so i went through some older stuff of mine and found this, only to realize i never posted it. i don't imagine anybody's still doing stuff for this weird social media-clan au thingy anymore, now that the meme of it has died down, but anybody's free to these names for whatever uses they want, if they want them :)

bonus lore to get it out of my head:

Yarrow-whisker was the previous medic before Quarrypaw, who has yet to gain their full status as a medicine cat in their absence

Geckopaw and Prairiepaw are siblings. Yewtail is only a so-so mentor at the best of times, so Foxfire effectively mentors them both. However, Prairiepaw has swooped in to support Yewtail when they decide to do something stupid and unsustainable on multiple occasions. they really shouldn't have been granted an apprentice tbh. i recently re-read Fire and Ice in the original warriors series so the parallels to Graystripe being a poor mentor to Brackenpaw are intentional

Skypelt came out of retirement to mentor Duskpaw, since they serve such similar real-life purposes. Skypelt doesn't understand everything their apprentice says or does but is generally supportive of such a similar application

Marsh-singer, Whitestep, and Thymeface are all siblings, and are collectively the youngest of the warriors (not accurate to the actual ages of the applications, but eh). to say they are all total gossips would be an understatement. they're also really interchangeable and forgettable. like the Runningwinds of apps.

depending on how positively you want to view the whole "reincarnation" trope some of the canon warriors books have, you could say that Tickpaw is a reincarnation of Musiclight. Otherwise, they just look really similar.

all of the "Cats Outside of Clans" cats are kittypets, with the notable exception of Furzebark, who is a banished rogue with a concerning amount of influence on the Clan(s?). maybe there's a whole band of rogues who are based on insidiously/surprisingly influential applications or online entities! various appstore/playsotre applications could fall under this category, as well as like. roblox, apparently. which is beyond weird to me since that's a game and not a wider application, but it got scarily profitable during lockdown, so...

Redpaw was Yewtail's sibling, but died during their apprenticeship. Probably to the same thing that killed Gravelpounce, but i have no idea what that would be

Flaxflower is generally considered WAY too old to still be alive (since the real internet explorer died a bit ago by now), but since he'd "find a way to be late to his own funeral", he has yet to kick the bucket.

the whole twittypet drama is EASILY the juiciest gossip the clan has had in ages, ESPECIALLY the half-clan checkmark-kits. in-universe, im interpreting the poor management of twitter that's been driving it into the ground irl as a negligent cat owner unintentionally driving their pet to spend more time outdoors with other cats (namely, dashclaw) to get away from them, which resulted in kittens. drummed-up anti-kittypet sentiment aside, many clan cats looking in on the situation just feel bad for her.

Vinewatcher is the most consistently "present" of the StarClan spirits, but is also the most consistently unhelpful. numerous potential prophecies later turned out to just be inside jokes of theirs they decided to continue rehashing into the afterlife. Quarrypaw, having not gotten much experience identifying what makes a legitimate prophecy yet, finds this exceptionally annoying behavior, and would like them to stop. They do not.

[liu-anhuaming]

all my mandarin dictionaries (and dictionary-adjacent books)

Through chatting with @don-dake and @cherrymintvampyyri, I've come to realize that I might own a less than normal number of Mandarin dictionaries. So, here's a post about all of them.

I do have two basic bilingual dictionaries (Mandarin/English): the Langenscheidt pocket dictionary and the DK visual dictionary. These are quite easy to buy and not that interesting imo, so I'm not gonna talk further about them.

I'm also going to include a couple books that aren't technically dictionaries, but are rather about etymology of characters, and that's close enough to count for me.

Okay, let's get on to the interesting stuff!

1. What Character is That? An Easy-Access Dictionary of 5,000 Chinese Characters by Ping-gam Go (second edition, 1995)

bilingual

This strange little dictionary was gifted to me by a nun who went to high school with my grandma and later lived in China as a missionary. It's organized alphabetically based on the English translation of each radical?

I have not used this dictionary for actual reference ever, because I flipped through it once and realized that it was absolutely whack. But it's cool to have I guess.

2. 新华字典 第11版

monolingual

This little guy was gifted to me by a Chinese classmate back when I was in college. It's a 字典, so it's just focused on defining individual characters and providing some words featuring that character. Despite being a mainland dictionary, it also has 注音 next to each character for some reason.

It's got some neat stuff towards the back, like the periodic table and a chart of all the 節氣 solar terms.

3. 小学生全笔顺 同义词 近义词 反义词 组词 造句 成语 多音多义字 词典

monolingual

Whew, that's a mouthful. This is an actual 词典, so it defines full words. It also provides example sentences, synonyms, antonyms, and close equivalents. Then there's a section for idioms, and another section for 多音多义字.

There's also this nifty little insert with examples of words/phrases that follow common patterns of repetition.

4. 新现代汉语词典

monolingual

I picked up this chunky guy from a used bookstore down the street from me (the owner of the store passed last year, and the store is no longer there unfortunately). This is a fairly normal dictionary, it's just bigger than my others and has more words listed in it.

One thing I also noticed is that this chart towards the end of the dictionary apparently had a strip of paper pasted on the bottom. It doesn't seem like something I can peel up without damaging the paper under it, and when I shine a flashlight through the page I can't make out any major differences between what's on the sticker and what might be on the page under it. So my best guess is there might have been some damage to the text on the page?

5. 商务馆学汉语近义词词典 The Commercial Press Guide to Chinese Synonyms

monolingual

This book is easily the one I reference the most. As the name suggests, the book is all about synonyms. It takes sets of 2+ similar words and thoroughly explains the similarities and differences between them all. There's plenty example sentences, with notes about whether the synonyms can be used interchangeably in certain contexts.

It's a great resource, but I had a bit of trouble getting my hands on a copy. It's possible that in the years since I bought it there have been more copies made available for sale though.

these next two are books I haven't explored too much since they are old and the binding is incredibly fragile and starting to fall apart. just opening them is stressful.

6. 漢字分解 Chinese Characters Explained by F.X. Keelan (aka 康愛玲修女) (1967?)

bilingual

This book was also gifted to me by the nun who went to school with my grandma, and appears to also have been written by a nun! Based on what I've found from Google, this book was published in 1967.

Rather than a dictionary, this book is "a compilation intended as an aid in grouping and remembering [Chinese characters] with a view in acquiring a reading knowledge of Chinese"(p. iii). It aims to break down characters into radicals and giving similar/related characters. It's apparently the final installment in a 4 part Mandarin Course.

This book uses traditional characters. According to Google Books, the publisher is 光啓出版社, which is a Taiwanese organization. The book includes a very long table that has Mandarin, Cantonese, Taiwanese, Hakka, Japanese, and Korean pronunciations for (what seems to be) every character mentioned in the book. The intro mentions that this is so the course is more "accessible" for speakers of other East Asian languages.

Also, look at that printing error in the third photo! The text got cut off at the bottom of the page.

7. The Structure of Chinese Characters by John Chalmers (second edition, 1911)

bilingual

This final book is the oldest of the bunch, and was gifted to me by my boss's boss for some reason? She found it in a used bookstore apparently.

This book also uses traditional characters, because simplified characters just weren't a thing yet in 1911. This book is falling apart, and opening it stresses me out. It creaks whenever I open it.

Going by the title page, the full title of this book is An Account of the Structure of Chinese Characters Under 300 Primary Forms; After the Shwo-Wan, 100 A.D., and the Phonetic Shwoh-Wan, 1833. It was published by Kelly & Walsh, which was a Shanghai-based publisher.

Someone very kindly penciled in the years the author was alive: 1825-1899. John Chalmers was apparently a Scottish missionary (bc of course he was) who apparently popularized the term "Cantonese". This book that I own in particular was originally published in 1882.

It is, as the very long title suggests, an analysis and etymology of 300 common components

It also has a nifty fold-out of all 300 "primary forms" in seal script.

[p0orbaby]

Dead Plate

summary: Natasha can’t cook. You love to let her know. She loves to be told.

warnings: suggestive but not explicit, language, slight sub!dom vibes? probably some terribly incorrect cooking terms in there

a/n: someone suggested chef!reader ages ago, so here’s something small

word count: 1.3k

-

“You’re doing that all wrong”

The sound of your voice caused Natasha to jump. So much so that the wooden spoon she was using clattered against the side of the pan and onto the floor.

“Sneaking up on someone in front of an open flame is dangerous, you know”

“Well it’s not as dangerous as what’s going on in that pot” you countered as you looked over her shoulder with a grimace.

“I’ve followed the recipe you wrote down! So if it’s bad then that’s on you”

“Right. Because apparently I said that spoons and whisks where interchangeable”

She was about to answer when she read your now food covered notes, and did in fact find she’d been using the wrong utensil all along.

“You could’ve picked an easier one for your first try. Even the best chefs struggle with a roux from time to time”

All Natasha could do was pout and cross her arms over her chest in defeat.

“Hey, don’t pull that face” you said as you tied your apron around yourself. Getting ready to either salvage the food or start over entirely. “Come over here and help, you can be my sous chef”

“Do I have to?”

“Ah, that’s not what we say now, is it?”

A shiver ran down her spine at your tone. Assertive. Commanding. Sexy as fuck.

“No. Chef”

“That’s what I thought. So come and stand over here and help”

“Yes chef”

Natasha washed her hands in the basin and promptly stood next to you. The few extra inches you had on her had her craning her neck upwards. Waiting patiently to follow any instructions you’d give her.

“You’ve added too much flour. So we need to add more milk. Can you measure two tablespoons and pour them into the pot for me?”

This time selecting the appropriate utensils, she did what you asked. Just as obedient as a trained puppy. Always wanting to impress.

“Perfect. Now we'll turn the heat down slightly, and I want you to stand in front of me at the stove and whisk until there's no lumps”

She wasn’t listening. She was looking at your hands, your forearms. The way they tensed as you turned the gas down.

“Earth to Natasha '' you promoted, smirking at the absent expression on the redhead's face.

“Sorry”

You took her wrist, pressed the whisk into her palm and maneuvered her so her back was touching your front. Caged in. Trapped.

“You know how to whisk, right? Or do you need me to assist you with that too?”

Without a word, Natasha lifted her hand and placed the whisk in the pot and started moving it back and fourth with speed. Bubbles being created in the milk at the repetitive motion.

She felt your hand at her elbow the next second.

“Too fast. Be a little more gentle” you whispered in her ear.

So she slowed her pace. Focusing on your breath against the skin of her neck and the pressure of your hands as they squeezed at her waist.

“Good girl. See how it’s getting thicker? Means you’re doing a perfect job”

“Thank you, Chef,” she breathed.

“Now, what else does the recipe say?” A rhetorical question as you reached around her form and picked up your own notes from the kitchen counter. “Cheese. Did you grate it already?”

She nodded.

“Words, Natasha”

“Yes chef. I left it in the refrigerator”

She missed the feel of your body against hers as soon as you stepped away. And the chill of the air from the fridge made her shiver. Goosebumps appearing on her skin instantly.

“And the macaroni?”

Oh

“I was going to boil that after,” Natasha admitted slowly. Realising her mistake as soon as you mentioned the other key ingredient.

“Oh dear, Natasha. You really did fuck up didn’t you?”

Your voice wasn’t judgemental. Not really. She knew you were playing, but that made the whole thing even more enjoyable. Your normal carefree attitude replaced by one of assertiveness with hints of superiority.

She probably loved it all a little too much.

Loved the way you tutted at her forgetfulness. Loved the way you moved around the kitchen, brushing past her with intent. It was all very calculated. She knew that. But she relished in the attention all the same.

“You need to do better, Natalia. Your job requires you to be well fuelled. And that means learning how to cook. I may not always be around to help you”

Her legs clenched together subconsciously at the insult. How you made her feel so weak she never knew. It was a stark contrast to why she was like outside of the house. Being a criminal lawyer meant she had to be stern, level headed, even ruthless sometimes. That all flies out the window as soon as you call her names, or roll your eyes at her incompetence at simple tasks.

“I can cook” Natasha’s response was merely just for show. She couldn’t cook. Unless you call tv dinners or oven chips cooking. Which you naturally didn’t. Her ex did the cooking and with him gone, she was left to dine on meals that were mainly made up from the colour beige.

Until you, that was.

“Sure you can sweetheart. If you could, I wouldn’t have to hold your hand while you tried and failed to make this now, would I?”

She shook her head. Bashful and innocent as you drained the water from the pot of now cooked macaroni.

Wait. She can’t have been ogling you that long surely?

“Do you need my help to stir it together or are you up to trying not to make a mess?”

She grabbed the spoon you’d held out for her and your response was to slide her between you and the surface once again. Marble digging into her hips deliciously as you lent forward and placed your chin on her shoulder. Fingers kneading softly at her sides.

“See, you can achieve what you want if you use your brain a little” you encouraged softly as she stirred the pasta into the sauce. “Mac and cheese now, beef wellington next”

“I think I’ll leave the cooking to you” she decided as she dipped her finger in the pot and licked the excess off. Moaning in joy at the flavour.

She went to dip her finger back in so you could have a taste, but you grabbed her wrist, nails almost digging into her skin, halting her movements.

“Don’t you dare put your hand back in there. Wash your hands or use a damn spoon”.

Her breath hitched. “Yes, chef”

You moved away from her again, but this time you smacked her behind as she shimmied up to the sink. Your action was relayed by a squeal from and an out of character glare at you from over her shoulder.

All you did in response was lean smuggly against the frame of the door again. Relishing in the fact you could turn her to jelly with a few harsh words.

“That was fun”

“Was it? All you did was insult me”

“All's fair in love and war. And I didn’t hear you complaining. You’re hot when you’re flustered”. There it was again. The heat that ran through her body at your backhanded compliments. “And you’d look even hotter flustered and naked”

She’d play along. “Is that so?”

“Oh I’m positive. Wanna find out?”

“Sure”

“What was that?” You shouted as you turned away from her and started ascending the stairs.

“Yes chef”

“Better”

Natasha almost melted into a puddle on the tile floor beneath her when you caught her gaze and tilted your head in the direction you were headed, prompting her to follow.

The mac and cheese could wait until after she’d worked up an appetite for something that wasn’t you.

[rin-and-jade]

Copy, and then Paste! : A Post About Introjection

You know it—the title is based off the Ctrl C and Ctrl V function from computers, but did you know we have our own version too?

Introjection is more than just mimicry or replicating something though, it apparently plays a far more important role than you'd initially thought. Want to know the answer? Let's check it out then! (not a clickbait)

Okay google, what is: to introject

Out of 1253 results, here is the recommended definition,

"Introjection occurs when a person internalizes the ideas or voices of other people" from Therapist Development Center

From the related result, here are top 3 examples: - When you internalize the idea of "crying is for the weak" - When you believe that you're not good enough - "I must dress pretty so i am socially accepted"

You can introject many sorts of things such as behaviors, mindsets, beliefs, traits, concepts or even feelings.

Articles on: How introjection happens

Well, it is a very complex process on how introjection happens, or why. But this search engine (me) will try to explain the whole concept to you in a simplified manner!

We have started to introject many things ever since a child, the world is difficult on its own to learn from scratch, which is why taking in qualities and behaviors from what we expose ourselves to the most shapes how we navigate the world.

Call it a framework to work with,, it is used to learn manners, or understand how to respond to a certain situation by observing, then, these values are internalized, importantly shaping us as we grow older. Though, introjection doesn't understand good or bad qualities as they're seen as "the truth" to one's mind, therefore it's possible to introject literally anything.

It can also function as a defense mechanism, where we adopt these values and internalize them in order to cope, or to repeat similar tactics that proved to be successful for the previous person. For example, if you were bullied, bullying back will mitigate the hurt you could receive in the future. This generally represents fictives and persecutors respectively, though varies for each person.

Fictive.. Factive.. What is that, Siri??

There are many kinds of introjects.. they can be based from fictional medias, real people, or even concepts like art or songs. But what the??

Easy now, sure the amount of introject kinds could throw anyone off, but the concept still stands true, though it gets trickier when it comes to other introjected concepts such as OCtives or Songtives, which i will explain too.

Thing is, what will help you understand many different kinds of them existing, is envisioning that introjection operates in a spectrum. Thats right, they are on a scale.

The idea is that introjection exists in a continuum. Just like how alters have varying degrees of development (a shard, or fragment), this scale is not meant to simplify or categorize things in its literal sense, but to help visualize and understand the level of complexities.

The level of complexity of a scale lies at what it/you introjected: Lvl 1: Introjection - the most basic forms can start from traits, ideas, or concepts. Example: Alters that formed off songs, art, thoughts, and even feelings. Lvl 2: Internalization - then getting to more fledged values like behaviors, life views. Example: Persecutors who had internalized negative attitudes from abusers. Lvl 3: Identification - and then lastly, when you identify the qualities of a specific person. Example: General Introjects, Fictives, Factives. (identification varies in intensity)

Sometimes, these introjected qualities are absorbed by multiple alters or by oneself. If it does not get absorbed to a pre-existing part, a new alter will be created to contain these qualities that it has internalized instead.

An introject possessing multiple sources from different aspects is also possible due to this process. (these three terms are originally interchangeable as they are under an umbrella of introjection, but i prefer to use them to represent each levels)

There's no result on the internet..

"What bests explains multiple introjects of the same source? What's with source separation? What about the memories that comes with said source?" Might be the search history in your phone right now, It's okay to stop searching, your answers are right under these fingertips!

Duplication of sources

When it comes to multiple parts of the same or similar source, it can be due to reasons like current hyperfixation or resonating with the qualities of said media. It can as be simple as wanting to have the same qualities from the media, too. Lastly, comorbids like autism and BPD plays a factor on how often you will introject.

Even duplicates will not act the same as the other one, which means each can introject different things from the same source, in different intensity or variation or alternative versions of source.

Additionally, being polyfragmented increases the amount of fragments/alters that could form, thus contributing to higher chances of having duplicates.

Source separating

When one introjected the qualities of a person/media, there might be a chance they identify as person/media due to it. The idea is that when one associates these qualities directly to the person, which then has a feedback loop where because the specific qualities are present, means they are that person.

Continuing from the example of bullying to not get bullied, they might see themselves just like the bully from the past due internalizing its behavior, in general this is equivalent to identification. Any negative or positive qualities can be introjected that later grow to identification.

The notion of needing to source separate is not something that have to be forced upon immediately. As it should be a transient process where one has to detach from the current sense of identity with one that is original.

No one can be 100% free from introjection, so source separation would mean minimizing the intensity of identification while developing a more whole sense of true self.

Being attached to a source in some level can be a positive outcome to implement, especially if it reinforces positive emotions or memories. As long it is not causing harm to anyone, since sometimes the urge to become the source or convincing of being one can be destructive.

Source memories

Remember something that had happened to you, but never happened to the body? It doesn't mean the memory itself is entirely fake, it is more to abstract context like how dreams manifests according to how you feel on a specific situation.

Just like dreams, the whole accident may never have happened in reality, but it is reenacting what had happened in the past with its own version/remake.

This happens when the true event is too much to take in or remember. When you cannot remember what truly happened, the somatic and emotional aspects to the trauma is still intact. Which contributes to why these fake memories aren't entirely fake.

Its good to take note that having a memory of going through an event, that doesn't happen bodily, never means you do understand the true experience of such event. It's only the impressions and assumptions of it.

With that being said, you can understand what your source memories are trying to convey by matching up similarities in your current life, or uncover how you feel or think of the event. Then, you can start healing whatever was left unresolved.

A scroll to the end of the web

Basically to reiterate things, we do copy and paste people's qualities for a living. But, not as a mere function like how computers implemented it.

Don't forget to consider who you will be friends with and how it'll impact you socially, and double-check whether you have adopted someone's essence that doesn't serve a meaningful purpose for you. You do become what you are exposed to, just like how you are what you eat.

Feel free to let us know your introject experiences, it could help validate someone else's experience, too!

- j & chaos

[the-delta-quadrant]

when did the gender reveal podcast go from just interviews with all kinds of trans people to constantly platforming people who are antitransmasculine and exorsexist? even tuck themself keeps leaning into the antitransmasculine exorsexist bit, despite him being nonbinary and transmasc.

like they had a binary trans woman on who kept going on rants about trans men and nonbinary people on her twitter. i can't remember her name for the life of me. but WHY would you platform someone who openly hates on other trans people? i know for a fact they wouldn't have invited buck angel who does the same shit because when a trans woman does it it's seen as "punching up".

then not that long ago tuck literally said that transmascs shouldn't talk about their oppression in front of trans women because "it might be annoying to them". oh no. how annoying to know that other people in your community are also oppressed.

and today he's platformed the worst person yet: a self-identified transsexual woman (probably binary and white, prove me wrong), who

thinks the word transgender is bad because it includes both men and women, and she doesn't want to be associated with "male privileged" trans men, and then she said "i'm including nonbinary people in that" because somehow we're men now who have binary and cis privilege

thinks "transgender" is a bad term because by being gender neutral it centres trans men (literally WHERE, trans men have historically been invisibilised and erased and actually thrown out of the community, most people who hear the term transgender picture a trans woman, not a trans man, or let alone a nonbinary person who of course is included in "men"

says all these baeddelist things and then in the last 5 minutes trying to denounce radical feminism by denouncing the terms TMA and TME (the only based thing she did, but it's hypocrisy)

thinks the term transgender is bad because it was created by multigender/genderfluid people who didn't medically transition in the 60s whom she sees as "not committing" because they "don't want to give up their privilege, something that's said about nonbinary people and/or trans people who don't medically transition all the time today, and she denounces the term transgender because why would she be associated with dirty nonbinary people who don't follow the same path she does? not to forget that transgender wasn't actually coined by those people, it was coined as a medical term and then adopted by them, but sure, write a history book while actually getting history wrong i guess, she'd also just call these people cis men despite them actually having said that they're both a man and a woman. of course you demonise and erase multigender people even in the past

thinks trans boys have an easier time transitioning than trans girls

as a medically transitioned, probably binary, trans woman talks as if she knows anything about the lives of nonbinary people, afab trans people as a whole & trans people who don't medically transition

thinks that "not transitioning" is becoming a more popular choice for trans people (??????? most trans people literally at least change their pronouns when they come out, unless of course you're talking about medical transition, in which case you're probably a truscum because social transition is transition)

acting like nonbinary transmascs are actually just trans men who don't want the responsibility of male privilege, something that tuck has also basically said before

using the terms transmasc and transfem interchangeably with trans men and women and of course with medical transition

acts like she cares about material realities but probably hasn't listened to more than one trans man, nonbinary person or non medically transitioning trans person because she's too busy speculating on what it's like for us (apparently we have male privilege while also basically being cis women)

just overall framing nonbinary as an inherently privileged identity, which is why there are less amab nonbinary people because all the afab male privileged people identify as nonbinary or whatever flawed logic (binary people shut up challenge, you can't be exorsexist towards amab multigender people by calling them cis men and then wonder why no amab nonbinary person comes out to you)

and the whole transmedicalist undertone of the show for a WHILE now that trans = medical transition, applying the term transsexual to all trans people, acting like being transsexual is a better way of being trans, acting like not wanting medical transition isn't valid; the only reason someone wouldn't medically transition is due to lack of access.

like holy shit what the fuck happened to this podcast.

the blatant exorsexism and antittansmasculinity doesn't become less hurtful and harmful when it's coming from and promoted by a nonbinary transmasc person.